


Topspin

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-15
Updated: 2003-08-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest





	1. Topspin

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  


**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", Rebound"

"What happened? Did you ask her? What'd she say?"

The death-ray glare and scowling face of Josh Lyman were clear, if silent, answers to the questions peppered by the Washington Post chief White House reporter.

"What the hell happened *this* time?" Danny Concannon flattened his palms on the desk of the Deputy Chief of Staff and waited for details. "Good Lord, Lyman, I could have been married and divorced three times by the time you finally manage to spit out the question."

"Yeah, you're my role model. You've been so successful at getting a ring on CJ's finger. You've been chasing after her for five years and last time I looked, Ms. Cregg is still footloose and fancy-free. She's probably flirting with the reporter from The Times as we speak."

"Take that back!" the redhaired correspondent growled, eyes blazing, fists tensing.

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Not!"

"Knock it off," Toby roared. "I can't believe either woman would consider marrying -"

"Well at least I didn't buy a house before I got my woman to sign on the dotted line of the marriage license," Josh snapped, and Danny nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Guys," Will interrupted softly, "I don't think it's very nice if -"

"Oh, shut up," the other three men said in unison.

"Anyway, it's all Margaret's fault," Josh said stonily.

"Margaret? Leo's Margaret?" Will asked timidly, pushing his glasses up on his nose, and glancing at Toby who was leaning against the wall of the now-crowded office.

It was early Sunday morning and the Snowball Knights were convened to hear a minute-by-minute recounting of the glorious proposal of marriage by Joshua Lyman to the fair-haired Donnatella Moss.

"Yes, damn it, Margaret screwed up my night of glory," Josh muttered, then added bitterly, "and my hopes of unbelievable, mind-blowing, off-the-charts sex which I figure would follow a proposal of marriage. Hell, given Donna's schedule, it was gonna be the first sex we've had in two weeks." That statement was accompanied by a thoroughly disgruntled snort.

"How the hell did Margaret, who I know for a fact has been on vacation for five days, screw up your third," Toby looked to Danny for confirmation and got it, "your third attempt to propose to Donna in a week and from what you're saying, your sex life."

"Leo called during dinner," Josh said sullenly.

"Why'd you take the call?" Danny demanded. "For crying out loud, turn off your cell phone and pager for 20 minutes and -"

"He didn't call me," the Deputy Chief of Staff answered impatiently, throwing his hands up in exasperation and barely holding onto the folder with the proposed budget cuts for the Department of Defense.

"Then who...?" Will asked, confused.

"He called Donna," Josh said bitterly. He slammed down the file he'd been waving around and with papers flying, he slumped down in his seat, defeat clearly written on his face.

"Donna? Why'd he call Donna during dinner?" Will exchanged glances with Toby.

"He had some questions about Joey's polling numbers in Nevada's first congressional district. Next thing I know, I'm having chateaubriand for two to go and another cold shower. I'm gonna kill Margaret," Josh said, with a vengeance usually reserved for Democrats who threatened to stray off the reservation.

"What'd Margaret do?" Danny asked.

"She left for Nevada five days ago," Josh spit out. "It was bad enough when she was in town, but ever since she left..."

"I don't get it," Danny pushed. "How does Margaret going to sin city affect you? And what the hell is she doing there anyway?"

"When we were in the middle of Zoey's kidnapping nightmare..."

They all were quiet for a moment rethinking those horrid hours.

Then Josh continued. "Anyway, Donna told me that she wanted to quit."

The friends exchanged confused glances.

"She wanted to go public with our relationship and didn't feel like we could as long as she reported to me. We don't have any problem with working together but you know the press." Josh waved off the noisy objections from the member of the Fourth Estate.

"So I talked to Leo and he named her special assistant to the Chief of Staff for research. But the change in Donna's reporting relationship was supposed to just be on paper." The Deputy Chief's voice took on a decidedly whiny tone. "But hell, she does one report on push polls in the California 47th and all of sudden, hello Leo's golden girl, goodbye, Josh's right hand man, er woman."

"And Margaret..." Toby waved his hand impatiently, trying to get Josh back on point and make the connection between his failed attempt at proposing marriage to his girlfriend and the red-haired assistant who was currently gambling in Las Vegas.

"Leo is coming apart at the seams. Before he was just assigning Donna research on the upcoming midterm elections. But with Margaret gone, he's calling day and night for everything from polling results to requests to videotape that cooking show he loves. I'm gonna kill Margaret," Josh said grimly.

"Get a grip," Toby snapped. "Margaret's coming back, what...tomorrow?"

"Hell no," Josh spat out. "That's the problem. Leo called about the Nevada house seats, but it was really to inform Donna that Margaret has lost her mind, gone off the deep end, jumped the shark...."

"We get it," Danny said, holding up his hand to stem the tide of irrational ranting from a sexually-frustrated DCOS. "When's Margaret coming back?"

"She's not. She called to resign. Margaret's getting married and I'm losing my girlfriend to Leo McGarry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We could get a suite at the Plaza," Debbie suggested, frowning at the glossy brochures Mac had tossed across her desk.

"Nah, the only fish we'd find there would be filleted and lying on a bed of fifty dollar lettuce."  He picked up one of the brochures and opened it to show her the inside photograph - an ocean scene with a man holding up a marlin. "This charter leaves on Wednesday and doesn't dock again for 5 whole days. They supply all the bait you can use or abuse. It'll be great."

Debbie's face got a greenish cast just thinking about it. She quickly gathered up the advertisements and handed them back to him. "I'm not a boat person," she asserted. "I don't really think I'm a fish person, either. Maybe we could just go..."

"Mac, how are you doing?  Are you two going fishing on your vacation?"  The President interrupted as he burst out of the Oval Office, followed by an agitated Leo McGarry.

"I'm fine, Sir," the ex-CIA agent cum cabdriver answered, shaking the President's hand. "But I can't seem to spark Ms. Fiderer's interest in wetting a hook with me."

"Abbey doesn't care for fishing either," Jed mused, plucking the top brochure from Mac's hand. "Man, I'd love to spend a few days out at sea, feeling the sun on my face. I remember the time that -"

"I remember when I used to enjoy listening to your fish stories," Leo grumbled, snatching the brochure from the President's hand and giving it back to Mac. "It was back when I had an assistant to help me, help you, run this country. But I guess those days are gone forever now."

"There you go again," Jed sighed. "Do we have to go through this again?"

Leo's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "You're the one who wanted me to *share* my problems, to tell you my concerns."

"That was 2 hours ago. I looked in that mirror - the one over the Monroe table in my office..."

Leo glared at him. "So?"

"So," the President's voice boomed, "I'm getting that same glazed look on my face that Josh gets when I mention National Parks. And that is not a good look for the Leader of the Free World."

"Fine. I'll suffer in silence," Leo grumbled. "Who cares if Margaret is ruining her life and mine?"

"What's this about Margaret?" Mac asked Debbie in confusion. "I thought you said we were going on vacation when she got back from hers?"

"Well, there's the root of Leo's problem," Jed answered before Debbie could get a word in. "Margaret's not coming back. She's staying in Las Vegas and getting married to Elvis."

"Elvis who?" Mac asked, glancing from one scowling face to two amused ones. "You don't mean one of those imposters?"

"Impersonators," Debbie hurriedly said, beating the President to the punch. "He's just in a contest out there. Normally he's a physicist."

"Nothing normal about him, if you ask me," Leo growled. "You'd think the FBI would be interested - possible National Security issues. But no. The Director laughed at me. Can you believe it?  Just wait until he needs some help with his upcoming budget hearing - I'm gonna make sure someone on his review panel brings up another Hoover rumor for him to run down."

"You called the FBI Director about Margaret's fiancé?"  The President's voice had a strangled quality to it.

"Las Vegas would be a nice place for a vacation," Debbie ventured, trying to divert the conversation.

Mac's eyes lit up. "No fishing, but the gambling is good. I bet I could find a pigeon or two in the casinos."

Debbie smiled. "We could also see a few shows, maybe go to the wedding."

Leo suddenly perked up. "You two should go - right away. I'll even spring for your airline tickets - first class if Mac can make one singing scientist disappear and get Margaret back in D.C."

"I don't know about 'disappearing' anyone - I'm retired from all that," Mac joked. "But I wouldn't mind checking him out - unofficially - between poker hands."

"You're going to Las Vegas?  That's great," Will interjected, making his presence known to the group. He walked over and handed a slightly crumpled file to Leo. "Josh sent you this." Turning to the group, he added, "Toby's letting me take the week off - I'm playing in the World Championship Poker tournament at the Mirage. Maybe we can all travel out there together."

"Poker tournament, Goatboy?" Mac smiled, and glancing back to the Chief of Staff. "Leo, you've got a deal. There's a big desert out there and Las Vegas will certainly never miss one less Elvis."

Debbie sighed, thinking she'd wasted her money on that shopping spree to Victoria's Secret.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh sat at his desk trying, for the third time, to read the report from the Department of Health and Human Services on the effectiveness of abstinence-based sex education curricula. He found himself getting hot and bothered all over again. This involuntary abstinence with Donna was driving him crazy.

"Guess who's gonna be coordinating your appointments schedule?"

Josh looked up at the source of his constant sexual frustration, or satisfaction as he dimly remembered.

"Um, you?" he answered confused and slightly apprehensive.

"That's sweet," she smiled. "But wrong."

"Not wrong!  Not wrong at all!  I know we haven't recently discussed your job description, but I'm pretty sure, in fact I'm positive, that keeping my calendar is part of your..."

"Well, yes, technically, but not so much as of thirty minutes ago," Donna said quickly, moving around the desk to pick up the folders in the out basket, of which there was one, and adding four more to the inbox.

"Did I miss the memo on that..." Josh asked, searching through the papers on his desk.

"I doubt that Janice has had a chance to send you one yet, but I'm sure she will," Donna offered in her most reassuring voice.

"Who the Hell is Janice?" The Lyman temper, aggravated by too many cold showers, including one at lunchtime, started to erupt.

"Janice Trumbull," Donna said softly.

"Do I even know Janice Trum...oh, no, absolutely not, no way, no way in Hell, no, no, no."

"Be reasonable. She's all I could find..."

"Why did you even start a search for someone to handle my appointments calendar?" Josh exploded. "Why aren't YOU handling it?"

"Because I'm handling Leo's.."

"He stole you from me? You're mine and he can't have you. I won't let him."

"I beg your pardon," Donna snapped in righteous indignation.

"He stole you right out from under me. That no good, thieving, cross-word puzzle loving, gourmet-cooking son of a bitch..."

"Perhaps you didn't notice, but the 14th amendment also applies to White House assistants and you don't own me, Mr. Lyman," came the steely voice of the irate blonde in front of him, who had also had quite a few cold showers in the last two weeks.

"And you're leaving me with the woman who longs to be a Vulcan?" Josh said indignantly. "You're going to work with Leo and abandon me to the person who convinced Ed and Larry to wear pointed ears to the House Leadership breakfast?"

"It was Halloween," Donna countered. "And they weren't pointed they were just big. Ferengi don't have pointed ears."

"Walken was not amused."

"Well, aren't we lucky that he's no longer Speaker of the House," Donna suggested reasonably.

"Donna!" The whine pierced the air. "Why is Janice Trumbull moving out of the belly of the Starship Enterprise and into my bullpen?"

"Because Leo has asked me to work out of his office until he can find a replacement for Margaret."

"I KNOW who that replacement will be," Josh said angrily.

"Don't be silly. I have no interest in working for Leo. He's too quiet. I never know what he's thinking. Plus his hours are even worse than yours. I'd never see the sun working for him. Janice will only be here for two weeks..."

"Two weeks? We've vetted Supreme Court justices in less time than that!" Josh roared. "Why does it take two weeks to find a replacement for Margaret?"

"Because I can't start to look for one for at least a week," Donna explained patiently.

"And why not? Get on it right now. I want a replacement butt in that chair by the end of business on Wednesday."

"That's impossible I'm afraid," Donna said firmly, heading for the exit. "I need to meet the candidates face-to-face."

"Sooooo," Josh said, waving his hand for her to explain, fairly sure that there was something more to this issue and he was already positive he didn't like it.

Donna stopped at the doorway and wheeled around to face Josh. "I have to meet the candidates for this position and I'm leaving town at 5:00 pm tonight."

"Where are you going?" Josh asked, even though he knew the answer.

"I'm heading to Las Vegas to be Margaret's bridesmaid, of course," Donna said with a smile. "I do hope she hasn't picked out yet another God-awful bridesmaid dress. What do you wear when the bride is marrying Elvis?"

"Elvis?" Josh squeaked.

"Haven't you heard? Margaret's met this darling physicist who swears he's channeling Elvis. He's in Vegas to compete in the Elvis USA contest," Donna said excitedly. "She thinks he's got a real shot at taking home the top prize."

"What's that?"

"A week at Graceland of course."

"And second prize would be two weeks at Graceland?"

"Do I sense some mocking going on here?" Donna asked with a smile.

"Not at all," Josh said thoughtfully. "In fact, I want to wish Margaret and Elvis my very best. Book two seats to Vegas. I'm going with you."


	2. Topspin 2

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

Josh was tossing folders into his backpack when he heard a sudden rap on the frame of his open door. He glanced up to see Danny Concannon slipping into his office and quickly closing the door behind him.

"I've got it," the red-haired reporter hissed.

Josh shifted his eyes around the room and back to Danny who was now leaning over his desk, a small piece of paper dangling from his fingers.

"What do you have?" Josh asked, reaching for the crumpled note, which Danny immediately snatched out of reach.

"Lower your voice. You don't want Donna to hear," Danny insisted.

"O-kay," Josh whispered. "What don't I want Donna to hear, keeping in mind that she's in her apartment as we speak."

"I grew up with a guy whose second cousin twice removed on his mother's side is married to the accountant to P. Diddly," Danny explained slowly.

"The guy who used to date Jennifer Lopez? Wow, she's hot," Josh said, with enthusiasm.

"Would you listen up, please. I said P. Diddly. He's an Irish rapper...well Irish in the sense that his greatgrandfather on his father's side came from Dublin, but otherwise the rest of the family came from Lithuania at the turn of the century, um that's the 21st century."

"Can I actually see your Pulitzer Prize 'cuz I've got some questions..."

"You want to hear how I'm gonna have Donna swooning at your feet and ripping off her clothes so fast that..."

"Talk...talk...I'm listening," Josh interrupted.

"Anyway, P Diddly does singing marriage proposals...actually he raps them...but my cousin assures me that women love his delivery. And this, my friend," Danny waved the small piece of paper in front of Josh's face, "is his personal, direct dial number. No thanks are necessary. Just a dance with Donna at the wedding."

"Thank you from the bottom of my...er stomach, but I've got a better plan," Josh said, confidently rising from his chair and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I admit I was a little off my game this past week, but I'm back, bigger and badder than ever."

"Yeah?" Danny said, admiration creeping into his voice. "Whadda ya gonna do?  Skywriting? Congressional Proclamation?"

"As usual, it's up to Josh Lyman to solve the problems of the world - and I'm up to the challenge. This is Survivor, only the fit will emerge triumphant, and the weak will eat my dust," he said, marching to the door.

"What? Come on, tell me, your brother in arms," Danny implored. "I...I've been thinking about what you said...about me and CJ. You're right. This has been going on too long and she still hasn't given me an answer to my question."

Josh stopped at the doorway and glanced back at his snowball-throwing pal. "What question?"

"Nothing I'm ready to talk about yet, but let's just say you're not the only one who's got some pressing issues with his woman," Danny said thoughtfully. "What's your plan?"

"OK, it's simple. Leo wants Donna because he can't have Margaret. I want Donna because...well, because I want Donna. Only one of us can have her and it's gonna be me," Josh said, conspiratorially.

"Ignoring for a moment the fact that Leo's your boss - how you gonna do it?" Danny demanded.

"I'm going to Las Vegas and when I'm done, Elvis will be in Heartbreak Hotel, Margaret will be in Leo's office, Janice will be teleported to a galaxy far, far away, and Donna, with a very expensive diamond ring on her finger, will be in my bed," Josh announced.

Danny nodded then paused. "Who's Janice?"

"Doesn't matter. She's gonna be out of here faster than you can say 'Beam Me Up, Scotty.'  I'm going to Vegas and retrieve Margaret - then I'll be able to get Donna's attention."

"Sounds like a plan. I'm coming with you," Danny declared.

"I don't mind an audience, but I thought you had your own problems to solve. How's going with me to Vegas gonna help your case with CJ?" Josh asked, confused.

"Leo's just ordered CJ to Vegas in hopes of talking Margaret out of this cockamamie wedding or alternatively, standing up for her as one of her bridesmaids - depending on the dress choice - according to Claudia Jean. And I've decided that sin city is just the place to have a long overdue talk with Ms. Cregg. I gotta pack."

"Me, too."

"Bring your lucky tie. I'm sure if your plan is as good as you say it is, we'll have time left over for gambling." Danny grinned, holding the office door open.

Josh frowned. "The President hasn't given it back. In fact he's got two of my ties. I'll have to talk to Charlie about making a raid on the Commander-In-Chief's closet."

"Oh well," Danny punched Josh's upper arm, "we're used to making our own luck."

The two men walked out the door, optimistic for the first time all day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kid was brilliant, but hadn't he ever heard of spell check? Toby added a 'g' to design, then threw down the speech Will had written for President Bartlet to deliver to the National Association of Home Builders. They were taking the opportunity to focus on affordable housing for the working poor and Will had spent days crafting the language. It issued an inspiring challenge, but hadn't the kid ever discovered the value of commas?

The Director of Communications wearily wiped his eyes and tried to focus on the words on the page. It had been seven weeks since the twins were born and he was exhausted, and maybe just a little bit horny. Nope, a lot horny since the possibility of sex with Andi was now hovering around the 'not in this lifetime or the next' mark.

But mostly he was drained, physically and emotionally, and what the hell, he mused, financially too. He'd convinced Andi to move into her dream house with the babies and he kept his old apartment. He'd told Andi that he'd sold his soul to buy the house. Right now he was considering selling body parts. Who knew babies, even if they came with hats, could use that many diapers in an hour. He glanced over to a picture of Huck and Molly and grinned. Oh hell, he didn't need that extra kidney anyway.

But the physical exhaustion was real. He worked from 6:00 am until noon every day, spent two hours with the babies while Andi met with her congressional staff at the house, then headed back to the White House until 7, headed back to the babies until midnight or later, then finally ended up in his apartment for 3 to 4 hours of sleep.

"Help!"

Toby looked up to see Andi trying to maneuver the twin car seat stroller through his office doorway.

"What the hell are you doing here? Is something wrong?" Toby's voice rose and Andi immediately shushed him before he woke one of the babies.

There was no way to get the carriage through the opening, so they parked it by Ginger's desk and unlocked the baby seats, each carrying a sleeping baby into Toby's office. Andi collapsed on the sofa.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" Toby said, flopping down into the chair next to the sofa and parking Huck's infant seat on top of the coffee table next to the one holding Molly.

"Melvina Stevenson," Andi sighed, dropping her head back against the couch cushions and closing her eyes.

"What does the bitch want now?" Toby growled.

"Nothing really, well almost nothing," Andi said softly, snuggling down and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"Melvina Stevenson always wants something," Toby snapped. "I always count valuable male body parts when I walk out of a meeting with that shark."

"And you, and every other liberal cause, always walk out with a hefty check," Andi replied without opening her eyes. "That women's shelter and domestic violence education project I've been trying to get funded for my district?"

"Yeah."

"The one that got cut by the Bartlet administration?" Andi said indignantly, but softly, fearful of waking a sleeping baby.

"We had to cut all funding for..."

"Yeah, yeah, sing it to someone else. Anyway, Mel is giving us seed money for five years," Andi explained.

"O-kay," Toby agreed, still confused why that prompted a trip to his office.

"But I've got to go to Las Vegas for three days," Andi announced, finally opening her eyes and watching the look of shock and then horror pass over Toby's face. "I don't want to leave the munchkins, but..."

"That's impossible...how? Why? Are you crazy?" Toby sputtered.

"I have to do it, Toby. This is too important to women who have no one else to protect them. Mel has put together a group of money people who might be willing to fund these projects in other states. I've got to go. I'll need you to stay at the house while I'm gone, of course."

"You can't leave me alone with the babies. Are you out of your mind?" Toby yelped causing Huck to begin fussing.

"Why not? You've gone on two trips since the twins were born and left me," Andi retorted. "You'll have plenty of help. Mindy will still come every day and I've arranged for her sister to be there with her. You'll just be alone at night with the babies."  She lifted Huck out of his car seat, hoping to quiet him to keep him from waking Molly. Kissing her sweet baby and murmuring in his ear, Huck began to gurgle and snuggled against his mother's neck.

"I don't know if I can do this," Andi started to sniffle, clutching Huck even closer and moving near Molly's infant seat to lightly stroke the little girl's hair. "You're right. I've got to be crazy to think I can be away from them for even a few hours," and Andi's voice broke.

"No, no. You've got to go. I...I can handle it. When...when are you leaving?" Toby whispered, almost too terrified to speak.

"I'm supposed to be on a five o'clock plane tonight and I'll be back first thing Wednesday morning," Andi said, tears now running freely down her face. "I can't do it," she wailed.

"Yes, sure you have to."  He took the now quieted Huck from Andi. "Get out of here. We'll be fine," not believing it himself, but hoping he sounded confident to the Congresswoman from Maryland. "Go," he ordered.

Andi quickly kissed Molly's curls, then Huck's, and with a tearful glance backward, left Toby's office.

Sitting down gingerly on the sofa, Toby carefully put Huck back in his seat. "I don't want to worry you guys, but I'm in charge now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sugar, how did you manage to get a whole week off?"   Ainsley's voice floated out from behind the open refrigerator door.

Will glanced up from his packing. The one good thing about having an efficiency apartment was the ease with which someone in the bedroom could carry on a conversation with someone in the kitchen.

"I qualified for the tournament while I was still in California. Toby agreed to me being gone this week in exchange for me not calling the FBI and the SPCA about the pig some of the more radical Communication Staff members left in my car right after I got here. That - in addition to the goat - was just too much."

"Is that why the writers all quit?" Her blonde head popped up over the open refrigerator door. "Wait - SPCA?"

Will smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Well, the FBI threat didn't work - even though the pig was stolen from a university agricultural department and taken across state lines, Toby figured he could handle the FBI. But not the animal rights people. Toby wanted no part of them. So, except for the cleaning bill which I had to pay, I'm pretty sure I got the best of that deal. By the way - you can't tell anyone about this - a gag order was also part of the agreement."

"Speaking of animals - and I have nothing against animals even though I'm allergic to many of them - well, not them technically, but their dander. I'm not sure why I have a problem with dogs but not cats. Don't you find that ironic?"

Will nodded. "Very."

"Anyway," her head disappeared back behind the door, "I think maybe you have mice in here."

"In my refrigerator?"  His voice hit a high note.

"No, on top. Something has been eating on the package of Twinkies that's sitting up there."

"That's incredible."

"Honey, lots of these old buildings have mice."

"No - I'm not surprised about the mice. Something has definitely been invading my space - especially at night, something with feet. I found tracks in...well you don't want to know that. What I can't believe is that you found actual food in my apartment!  I haven't been shopping for weeks. I wonder how long those Twinkies have been up there?"

He heard a thump and assumed she'd hit one against the edge of the kitchen counter.

"Well, they don't squish anymore," she answered with a giggle.

He heard the crinkle of cellophane.

"And the creamy filling is no more. You don't have much food in your kitchen, at least not much that's still edible." Ainsley shut the refrigerator door. "How about I call for a pizza?  I missed lunch when I rushed home to pack."

"Great," Will smiled, tossing his favorite t-shirt in his suitcase. "I'm finished here. We've got all afternoon to relax before going to the airport."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So tell me again - three alike and two alike make what?"  Ainsley sat cross-legged on his bed, holding her two cards and staring at the five cards spread out on the blanket.

"A full house," Will groaned, pushing his cards back towards the deck. "I can't believe how lucky you are!  That's four hands in a row you've won. I'm either a really good teacher or you're cheating."

"Now, Will, don't be a sore loser." Ainsley grinned. "I believe you owe me another garment. And remember socks and accessories don't count."

"That's a stupid rule," he retorted, then blushed as he remembered it was his rule. Somehow it had seemed like a good idea when he'd believed that since Ainsley didn't know anything about poker - in this case strip poker - and that she'd be the one doing the losing and disrobing.

Will pushed up his glasses. He had lost his tie in the first hand, his shirt in the second, his pants in the third, and now his t-shirt was joining the pile at the foot of the bed. He was running out of clothes.

"Double or nothing," he blustered, hoping to hold onto his briefs and his dignity for at least another hand.

"Double or nothing?  You mean I'm betting all my clothes against your clothes - what you're wearing and what I've already won?"  Ainsley smiled, her eyes slowly traveling over his body and down to the bulge in his blue, cotton jockey shorts. "Okay, Sugar. I'll see your bet."

Will felt his body warm as she looked him over, in fact, some parts of him seemed to be on fire.

"Do you want me to deal?" Ainsley asked as he remained inactive.

"Uh, no." Will nervously shuffled the cards, seriously considering - for the first time ever in his illustrious poker career - stacking the deck.

Anisley hid a smile. They had three more hours before their flight left and she knew just how they were going to spend them. Will was a good poker player but she was better. Her grandpappy had taught her a half-dozen poker games by the time she was knee-high to a grasshopper and she could read a bluff a mile off. Will's fate was sealed.

Will dealt out two cards each, the tops of his ears reddening as he looked at his cards.

She sighed as she glanced from his red-tipped ears - a sure "tell" that he had another lousy hand - to the pair of Aces she held. As much as it pained her, she was going to have to fold and let him win. After all, she did want time to enjoy her winnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He tasted like the pepperoni and pineapple pizza they'd just eaten and something else - something sweet- something purely Will. It was like ...maybe caramel. Before she could figure it out, his mouth left hers, beginning a journey down her pale body.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his lips releasing her breast. He looked up at her as he carefully moved his hand between her legs, his fingers stroking the delicate folds.

"I like everything you do." Anisley smiled at the shy speechwriter, her hands gripping at his shoulders as he slipped one finger deep inside her. They had made love only a few times since the night at Camp David and each time had been better than the time before.

Will blushed. "I'm sorry about... well you know - before. Watching you make good on the bet was just more than I could..."

"Shush, don't you worry your head about that. I'm just flattered that I could induce such passion without even touching you."

Will beamed at her, his fingers stilling. "I've never known anyone like you - never dreamed that anyone like you would spend time with someone like me. Ainsley, you are every fantasy I've ever had all wrapped up in one person. I..."

"Sugar," she shifted on the mattress, glanced at the bedside clock, and wrapped her legs around his waist, "why don't you show me instead of telling me. I think you've had enough time to recover."

"Okay," he solemnly answered, carefully positioning his body over hers. "I don't want to brag but I have great stamina."

"Will?"

His eyes met hers. "Yeah?"

"You're my fantasy too." She raised her head and kissed him, her tongue gaining entrance and dancing with his. Liquid caramel. Definitely.

Over on the coffee table a hamster sat chewing on a pizza crust, depressed. He'd seen the packed suitcase sitting open on the floor. When the pizza smell had called to him through the hole in the floorboard behind the refrigerator, he'd come running.

Picking up another piece of crust, Lex Luthor pondered his future. It was going to be a tough week with his favorite neighbor gone. His owner only fed him boring hamster food and only cleaned out his cage when the old woman complained. Maybe it was time to relocate.

Eyeing the open suitcase, the hamster considered his options.


	3. Topspin 3

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

"Leo's a good man," Mac exclaimed as he viewed the small suite that the Chief of Staff had reserved for them at The Mirage. "I thought he was just picking up the airfare."

"Mr. McGarry doesn't do things half-way," Debbie responded, tipping the bell-boy who was patiently waiting by the door, after having given them the tour and placed their bags on the luggage stand near the large closet in the bedroom.

"Still, upgrading our room to a suite and paying for it is above and beyond the call of duty. Now I'll really have to whack Margaret's fella."

Debbie chuckled, watching Mac roam the room, looking in the entertainment center and checking out the minibar.

"We'll have to raise a pint to him while we're here," Mac joked using a bad Irish brogue while he checked the labels on the tiny liquor bottles. "Are you hungry?  I forgot they don't feed you on planes anymore."

"They do on Air Force One. I don't think I'll ever be truly happy riding in a commercial plane again - one year working for the President and I'm spoiled for normal travel." Debbie walked over and took a look out the bank of windows filling the outer wall of the living room area of the plush one-bedroom suite. "We've got a great view of the fountain."

Mac sauntered across the room and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her back against him. "So darlin', do you feel like having a late supper in one of the restaurants downstairs, or would you rather slip into something more comfortable while I call room service and have something sent up?" 

Debbie allowed the hug for a moment then awkwardly pulled away. "Let's check out the casino and then eat afterwards. I'm feeling lucky."

Mac watched her head for the door then followed, grumbling under his breath, "I'm not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Periwinkle or mauve? Mauve, what the hell is mauve? What the hell is periwinkle for that matter?"

"Blue or purple," Donna answered without looking up from the computer screen. "Definitely periwinkle. I look like a corpse in mauve."

"She said to tell you blue and absolutely no purple." Josh held the receiver away from his ear as Margaret argued the case for mauve.

"Margaret, I'm just repeating what she told me. She said she looks dead in purple...er mauve. I prefer blue myself...Well, I'm just giving you my opinion." He listened some more.

"Did you bring shoes to go with either color?" he called over to Donna who was flipping through a yellow legal pad filled with notes.

"I have shoes that go with periwinkle. I don't own anything that is or remotely resembles any shade close to mauve, so no, my shoes only go with periwinkle. However, if she has her heart set on mauve, I'll go barefoot."

"It's blue shoes or barefoot with purple," Josh summarized. "Good choice," he nodded. "I think you won the color contest," he murmured to Donna, holding his hand over the receiver. He watched her walk over to the luggage rack and frantically search through her tote bag.

"Got it," she said to no one in particular and walked back with a black notebook that had yellow post-it notes ribboning the right side.

"Yes. I think Elvis...what did you say his name was? Ok, yes, I think Peter can wear a purple sequined jumpsuit for a wedding and it pretty much doesn't matter what anyone else wears if the groom has that get_up on."

He tuned out as Margaret described the groom's outfit in a little more detail. He grabbed the TV remote, flipping on Sports Center, and hitting the mute button. With a smile, he read the closed captioning of the latest scores. As Dan Patrick started to announce the results of the Mets/Braves game, Josh said quickly, "I'll see you at the pageant tomorrow. Yeah, yeah, Donna will meet you at 8 with her blue shoes, gotta run, I need to wash my hair." He flung down the phone, stretched out on the king-sized bed, and hit the mute button again so he could hear and follow the action.

As soon as it was clear that the Mets had been thoroughly trashed - again - Josh punched the power button, stared over at his girlfriend, then flopped back on the bed. "You don't work this hard for me," he whined.

"Just one more minute," Donna murmured, fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop. "Leo needs this report before he meets with Nancy McNally tomorrow afternoon."

"Are you almost done?"

"Uh huh. Just proofing it."

"So you could theoretically finish this in the morning," he asked casually, pulling his t-shirt off over his head.

"Yes, but I thought I'd send it on tonight," Donna muttered, continuing with her typing.

Josh got up from the bed and sauntered over to the chair where Donna sat, scrolling through the on-screen document. He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders, then leaned in and kissed the skin below her right ear. Pressing his lips slowly down her long neck, he slipped the thin straps of her blue tank top down her arms and started to move his warm mouth first across her right alabaster shoulder, and then the left side.

"I love these tops," he whispered. "No bra." He smiled and flattened his hands against her exposed breasts, her nipples beading against his palms.

"It's...it's built-in," Donna moaned, as he squeezed the soft mounds.

He moved one hand lower. "What are you wearing under these?"

Donna reluctantly pushed Josh's fingers away from the button on her black pants. "I've got to finish this report," she protested. "You're gonna cause an international incident if I..." She lost her train of thought as his fingers unsnapped the button anyway and began moving down into her panties.

"Hit save, Donna," Josh growled, raising her gently up from the chair. He had one arm wrapped around her bare chest pressing her backwards against him, while the other hand was pushing upwards against her moistening center.

"Hmmmm," she murmured, turning her head and capturing his lips with hers. Without needing to see the keyboard, she deftly hit Control and S before he moved her out of reach of the laptop.

"Let's create our own international incident," she growled, twisting so that he was under her as they fell on the king-sized bed, his trapped hands and her tangled clothes slowing them down for only seconds as they wrestled each other for the upper hand.

"I win." Donna smiled as she finally kneeled beside him and stroked his stiffening member.

"No, I surrendered. There's a difference," he protested, arching his back as her wet mouth closed over him. "Oh, God."

For several seconds he lost sight of the room, his only reality the feel of her tongue caressing his

swelling penis.

"Josh?"  She lifted her head, waiting.

"Uh?" he gasped, opening his eyes.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"You win," he quickly stammered, one of his body parts aching for her return. "Absolutely - no question about it - you're the winner."

Donna grinned at him. "I thought so."

She scooted up the mattress and straddled his body, carefully sinking down on his flag of surrender.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What a trip," Mac enthused, cutting into his steak. "I'm definitely running with the right company. The White House Chief of Staff pays for our airfare and lodging and my uh, date, wins enough with a single quarter to pay for a fancy dinner."

"Is that all this is? A date?"  Debbie smiled at Mac's panicked expression as he struggled to chew his meat, swallow, and reply before she started talking about emotional attachments.

"You know it's more than that," he sputtered, then quickly changed the subject. "How's your fish?"

"Good," she answered, giving him a break and taking another bite.

"Good," he echoed, wondering if he was ever going to understand the woman sitting across the table from him. They had been casually seeing each other off and on for six months, the seemingly endless demands of her job keeping their relationship from progressing to something more intimate than kissing and a little friendly groping. He'd taken so many cold showers lately that they had become habit - having enough hot water in the tank was never an issue any more. Debbie was definitely the one who'd been keeping the brakes on - apparently now she was considering something more - exactly *what* was still a question in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CJ lounged on the bed in the well-appointed hotel room, the phone at her ear, only half-listening to Margaret enthuse about her 'Elvis'.

"That's great, Margaret. Danny and I are looking forward to meeting him." She smiled as the bathroom door opened and the reporter walked out, a damp towel around his waist his only covering.

"What time does the pageant start?"  CJ twirled the phone cord and watched the reporter grab his shaving kit from his bag. She continued to watch as he stood in front of the dresser mirror and slapped aftershave on his neck as his face remained unshaven.

Danny caught her gaze in the mirror and grinned, tossing the kit back into his open suitcase. Mimicking a model walking down a catwalk, then doing a spin, he approached her on the bed as he finished with a little bump and grind routine with his hips.

CJ clapped a hand over her mouth to keep Margaret from hearing her laugh. Margaret was going on about how angry Leo seemed to be with her when she'd told him the news and how badly the subsequent phone calls from him had gone. Somehow CJ didn't think hysterical giggles would be the sympathetic response Margaret was expecting.

"Margaret, I think Leo will..." CJ batted away Danny's towel as he threw it at her. "I think Leo will understand eventually, you just need..." The giggles threatened to erupt again as Danny repeated his performance sans towel. "Margaret, I've got to hang up now. Danny's lost something vital..." CJ covered the mouthpiece and ended the sentence with, "like his mind."

Danny moved close enough so she could see that he hadn't lost anything important.

"Got to go, Margaret. We'll be at the pageant tomorrow. Yes." CJ shook her head 'no' at Danny as he crawled on all fours up the mattress, straddling her half-prone figure.

CJ ignored him. "I'll think about the dress, but I don't think..."

Danny suddenly grabbed the phone from CJ's hand, saying "Bye, Margaret" into the receiver before hanging up the call.

"How rude," CJ playfully admonished him, slapping his bare bottom. "She was just about to try to convince me that I'd look good in pastel florals."

Grinning, he slid his hands under the long t-shirt she was wearing and tugged down her panties. "You'd look good in anything."

"Not florals," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his mouth to hers.  "Anything but florals."

He kissed her and then pulled back slightly. "Are you ready to answer my question yet?  I've waited more than the month you asked for."

CJ stared at him for a moment. She knew he was almost out of patience. "Before we go home," she whispered, tangling her hands in his hair and tugging him forward again. "I'll give you my answer before we go home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She could hear Molly crying. It had an angry, indignant tone to it. Already she sounded like Toby when confronting a major injustice in the world. For Molly that pitch usually meant she was hungry and wasn't about to wait another minute before she ate. "Mom, give me a bottle. I've got things to do and need sustenance to do them."

She could also hear Huck crying. His was softer but no less insistent. He used that pitch when he had a gas bubble and needed relief. "Come on Mommy, pat my back, rub it, so I can belch and go to sleep," he was telling her. "A guy needs his rest when he's got to conquer the world."

She could hear her babies talking to her, demanding that attention must be paid. Now she could hear Toby shouting, pounding on something. But she couldn't quite make out what he was trying to tell her. She could hear her children, but it all seemed so muffled, like there was cotton batting between her and her family...or maybe just good sound-proofing. She swam to the surface of consciousness when Huck and Molly both hit that note in their wailing that threatened to break glass - or at least interrupt the first deep sleep she'd had in two months.

And then she heard a frantic voice rise above the wailing babies. "Help, Andi, open up.."

She sprang from her bed and flung open the door of her hotel room.

He stood there, a baby car seat dangling from each hand, a red-faced screaming baby flailing in each carrier.

"What the hell...?" she asked as he rushed past her. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand revealed that it was four o'clock in the morning.

The maternal juices kicked in and she moved quickly to unsnap Molly from her confinement. Toby tossed her a bottle, while releasing the straps that held Huck in his seat.

"It's okay, pumpkin," Andi said soothingly, smoothing the damp curls around Molly's face as the infant settled into her mother's arms and sucked furiously at the bottle of formula. Simultaneously, she heard a burp that sounded much like Toby after three beers, but instead emerged from the miniature Ziegler currently slung over his father's shoulder.

Toby sank down on the bed, exhaustion oozing from every pore. Huck, now relaxed, peeked around the strange room, until he fixed upon his mother's face and broke out into a lopsided grin. Andi sat next to Toby and leaned forward to give her baby boy a sweet kiss. Silence, interrupted only by the greedy slurping noises from Molly, was welcome as the two parents exchanged amused glances.

"I swear I will never take another out-of-town trip until they are 15 years old. How the hell did you do it when I went to Colorado?" his voice betraying a sense of awe. "I lasted one hour and Ginger made reservations for us on the 8:30 flight."

Molly took a final slurp, which was followed by a distinct sound and smell that indicated that the young lady was now thoroughly relaxed. She grinned at her two parents.

"Toss me the diaper bag and call down for two porta-cribs," Andi ordered, actually relieved that she and the babies were in the same time zone. With a well-practiced hand, she quickly removed her daughter's soiled diaper, wiped up the cutest butt in DC, and slid on a clean one.

"Andi, you'll still be able to get to all your meetings. I'll stay in the room with the babies, but...but," he began apologetically, stopped for a moment, and looking directly in her eyes, finished, "we just needed... you."

She looked more critically at Toby. His face was lined with exhaustion and spit-up stains littered his jacket.

"Go take a shower. Me and the babies will chat about poker, one-armed bandits, and Elvis." She smiled softly.

Toby gently placed Huck next to his sister on the bed. Both babies glanced at their parents' faces and gave sleepy yawns.

"Maybe we'll save the Elvis discussion for tomorrow," Andi whispered, dimming the lights.


	4. Topspin 4

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

"Hello all," Debbie called out as she approached the table where the West Wing gang was congregating. She was dressed in a flowing purple silk duster and matching silk pants. A long sapphire scarf trailed in her wake. Several waist-length strands of pearls were hanging from her neck and multiple gold bangles clinked at both wrists.

"You look wonderful," Ainsley gushed. "I love that outfit."

"What, no feather boa?" Josh joked, dodging CJ's slap to the back of his head.

Debbie just smiled at him and patted his arm like she would a naughty child. "That's only for evening wear."

"Where's Mac?" Ainsley asked, sitting down at the table as Will pulled out a chair for her.

"He said he had to see a man about a dog." Debbie shrugged, accepting the chair Josh held out for her. "Whatever that means."

"Well generally it means..." Ainsley started to explain the Southern expression but was distracted as a waiter entered the large room with a tray piled high with pastries and doughnuts.   Apparently a continental breakfast buffet was going to be offered to the pageant guests. "Will?"

"I'm on it," Will answered, getting to his feet. "Can I get anyone else something?"

"Coffee," CJ begged. "I only had time for one cup this morning before we left the room."

"Whose fault was that?" Danny asked. "I tried getting you up at least an hour earlier than when you finally managed to drag yourself into the shower."

"Bite me," CJ snapped. "I had to take a call in the middle of the night from a panicked Alvin. Carol is demanding to come to the wedding and even if he's Deputy Press Secretary, Alvin knows he can't handle the briefings without her."

"He should have talked to Leo instead of bothering you," Danny argued, getting to his feet and going after Will.

CJ shrugged. "Leo is in denial. He doesn't think the wedding is going to happen. He called me after Alvin hung up, begging me to talk Margaret out of this craziness. I think he..."

Donna held up her hand stopping CJ. She nudged Josh and pointed towards Danny and Will loading up several trays of coffee and donuts. "They need your help."

"You're just trying to get rid of me," Josh whined.

The ladies around the table smiled and nodded.

Donna leaned sideways and kissed his pouting mouth. "Go. We're going to talk about that stuff that makes you turn red."

"Oh. Right." He scrambled to his feet and made his way across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Pete, you think it's too late for me to get into the business," Mac asked, trying not to stare at the physicist plastering foundation on his face. Mac had met with the President of the Elvis Impersonators Association and asked him to arrange an interview with one particular impersonator. The man was thrilled to have a personal friend of President Bartlet attending the pageant and was more than cooperative about introducing Mac to one Peter O'Donnell, award-winning physicist and Elvis impersonator extraordinare.

"Never too late if you love performing. I don't know about dog acts though. You and your dog sing duets?"  Peter pulled on his dark wig and smiled at the older man. "I don't make much money doing this you understand. It's more of a hobby."

"Yeah, well I'm retired with a government pension so any extra income would be welcome."

"Then I can give you the names of a couple of agents. Maybe get you and your dog started."

"Thanks. Do you have to do a lot of traveling? Must make having a home life hard. Whiskey and I generally like to be in our own beds at night."

"I stick to the west coast since I teach part-time at Berkeley. Every six months or so I get to New York or Chicago - and of course an annual trip to Graceland on Elvis's birthday. I actually love the traveling - the thrill of performing in a new theater." Peter brushed powered blush on his cheeks and picked up a pinkish-colored lipstick.

"Still - that would be hard if you had a family." Mac frowned, wondering if the guy was a little too into the makeup and jewelry.

The Elvis impersonator smiled at the older man's reaction. He gestured with the lipstick. "Have to wear the makeup. Otherwise the stage lights make me look dead."

"Wouldn't that give you an advantage over the other contestants? You'd look the most like the real Elvis!" Mac joked.

Peter laughed. "Doesn't work that way. They all want to see the young, healthy Elvis."

"Does your family support you? Do they object to all those nights on the road?"  Mac tried again to find out something about the man's significant relationships.

"I'm single so it hasn't been an issue." The thirty-something man sucked in his stomach and zipped his tight magenta sequined jumpsuit. "But I'm getting married on Wednesday so I guess I'll be finding out. My fiancée understands how important this lifestyle is for me though."

"Lifestyle?"  Mac probed. Last he heard it was a part-time hobby.

"Sure. I can't just turn it on and off like a switch you know. Sometimes I stay in character for days at a time - weeks even. I tell you it's a real thrill to go through the check-out line at the grocery store dressed in this little number." Peter smoothed the sequins down over his chest.

Mac withheld comment. The guy was a few bricks shy of a full load. "Congratulations on the wedding."

"Thanks. Listen, I've got to go warm up the pipes - I'm sure you know all about that - I'm due on stage in 20 minutes."

"Okay," Mac got to his feet. "Maybe I'll see you around. I'm here in Las Vegas for a friend's wedding. Haven't met the guy yet but he's supposed to be competing too."

Peter put on a pair of sequined sunglasses. "Yeah what's his name? I know most everyone on the circuit."

"Actually I don't know his name yet - it's my lady friend's co-worker's wedding." Mac shook the man's hand. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me about the business. Hope you break a leg out there."

"Thanks. Good luck with the dog act."

Mac nodded and opened the dressing room door, thinking that Margaret's fiancé was a little strange - but probably no stranger than the other Elvis wannabes in the contest. Leo McGarry wasn't going to be pleased.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, ladies, I met him," Donna whispered.

"Who?" Ainsley asked, glancing over her shoulder to see what was holding up Will and the platter of donuts. She smiled when she saw him elbow a woman dressed like Priscilla Presley at 16 out of reach of the honey glazed variety. She blanched when she realized that "Priscilla" might not actually be a full-fledged member of the sisterhood.

"Abraham Lincoln," Donna snorted. "Margaret's fiancée, of course. Elvis...er Peter."

"I'm sorry, honey. I don't focus too well when I haven't eaten breakfast, which as we all know is the most important meal of the day," Ainsley explained.

"Sooo," CJ circled with her hand to indicate that Donna needed to fess up what she'd discovered.

"Let me be upfront with my prejudices," Donna admitted. "I have questions about any guy who has more makeup than I do."

The other ladies at the table nodded in agreement.

"That said, he seems okay. I mean he's a friend of Margaret's brother. He's a professor of physics with tenure, so even if this Elvis gig doesn't work out, he's still got a job and..." Donna leaned forward and lowered her voice so that the group had to strain to hear her. "According to Margaret, he's the best lover she's ever had. I didn't get all the details _ and don't worry, I plan to, but we had some kamikaze shopping to do _ anyway, when the sequins come off, he can do more with his mouth than sing 'Heartbreak Hotel'."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh," the women all murmured.

"And..." They all eagerly leaned forward as Donna continued. "Margaret said that she wonders if he's been hitting those gamma rays from his lab or something because the Incredible Hulk doesn't just describe all of Bruce Banner's attributes. Peter O'Donnell puts the Hulk to shame."

"Oh my," CJ said in admiration. "That does put a new light on things. Size does matter. So when he sings 'Love Me Tender...'"

"Seriously," Donna said sagely. "Although I don't think those details are what Leo wants to hear."

"It does give new meaning to Elvis' song, 'A Big Hunk of Love'," Ainsley giggled.

"But I am worried about one thing," Donna continued. The women listened intently to her concerns and nodded in agreement when she finished. "So I think we need to find out for sure if it's really true, and if so, then it's time for the sisterhood to have a heart-to-heart with Margaret."

The ladies murmured their assent, just as Will, Josh, and Danny staggered to the table laden down with trays filled with coffee, juice, and donuts. The women pounced upon the portable feast before the men sat down.

"Nothing like a little Lyman Lovin' to build up an appetite," Josh whispered as Donna scarfed down a cream-filled donut. He reached for the last honey-glazed one, but CJ batted away his hand.

"Mi Amor, consider this. It's barely 11 in the morning. I've had maybe four hours of sleep. I've had to promise my assistant a trip to a spa in exchange for staying on the job until I get back, Leo has called three times and alternately argued and whined about his assistant's desire to wed, Danny snores like a freight train after..." she paused for a moment and glared at the redhead who was intently studying the contents of his coffee cup, a small smile flickering at his mouth, "and," she continued, "the only kind of donut I like is honey-glazed. So I'm gonna ask you nice and polite. Just how much do you want that donut?" CJ scowled at the Deputy Chief of Staff who quickly withdrew his hand, glared at the Washington Post reporter, and took another swallow of his juice.

Donna broke off a piece of her donut, slipped it to her hungry boyfriend, and whispered, "I've shopped with Margaret, sent off the report to Leo, and now have an afternoon free for some more Lyman lovin'. You need to keep up your strength."

Josh popped the tasty morsel in his mouth and grinned, planning on popping his long-delayed question to Donna that very afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Keep your seats." Mac waved the men at the table down as he took the empty seat next to Debbie. Putting his arm across the back of her chair he whispered, "What did I miss?"

"Quite a bit," she answered, staring straight ahead at the closed curtains on the stage. After stalling for weeks, she'd finally worked up her nerve to make love with him and he'd fallen asleep on the sofa while she was still trying to figure out which was the front and which was the back of her new silk negligee.  Damn man, his timing sucked.

Mac glanced around. It was obvious that the pageant hadn't started yet. She was still mad about the night before. Hell, if she hadn't wanted to play poker until 3 am he might have been awake when she came out of the bathroom. 

Old enough to know that reasoning wasn't going to get him anywhere Mac settled for pulling out of his jacket pocket a small elegantly wrapped package - something he'd picked up for her in D.C., just in case he needed an ice breaker during the trip. Now seemed to be a good time - a distinct frost was in the air.

"What's this?" she asked when he put the package on the table in front of her.

"A token of my affection," Mac growled, a blush covering his face when he noticed that everyone at the table was watching them.

Debbie glanced at him and then their audience. Hiding a smile, she touched the gold bow on top. "You want me to open it here?"

"Sure he does," Josh interjected. "From the looks of it he spent big bucks on it. What did he do wrong? Start the party too early?"

Will started choking on the water he'd just swallowed.

Danny laughed and pulled out his notepad, joking about getting a breaking story.

Mac glared at Josh. "Don't help me."

Debbie laughed. "Mac didn't even..."

"Do you want it or not?" Mac gruffly interrupted. "This Elvis thing is going to start any minute."

"Don't be embarrassed, Mac. Will sometimes has the same problem," Ainsley commented. "Will, honey, we should keep in mind that donut thing if it works for Josh. I can ask Donna later if it made much of a difference."

Josh blanched and whispered to Donna, "You don't really tell them about our sex life, do you?"

Donna grinned and whispered back,  "Do you talk about it with the guys?"

Josh started to deny it but saw Danny's smirk. "Only a little bit," he softly admitted.

Donna patted his arm. "I only tell them about little things too."

Danny howled with laugher.

"Shut up, Fishboy," Josh retorted. "I'd put mine up against yours any day."

"Not if I saw you coming," Danny joked, dodging as CJ aimed for the back of his head with her program.

"Ainsley," Will whined, slumping down in his chair, "it was just that once and I made a great come back only 20 minutes later, without the influence of pastries."

"I don't want to know any of this," CJ announced, gesturing from Mac to Will to Josh. "Can we change the subject before Will slides under the table?"

"Well, I for one don't have any problems in that area," Danny bragged. "I'm always charged and ready to go."

"Sounds like the Energizer Bunny," Josh laughed. "You know you are kind of pink and fluffy - you and Will."

Will frowned and sat up straight, pushing up his glasses. "I do have a million dollar game to play this afternoon. It would be nice if I could go into it with a little dignity left."

"I'm sorry, Sugar. Do you want me to tell them about your incredible stamina? No bunny can hold a candle to you," Ainsley offered, kissing his red cheek.

Will's empathetic "no" was echoed by the others at the table.

While the guys were taking measure of each other, Debbie had been unwrapping the package.

"Do you like it?" Mac whispered as Debbie lifted the delicate gold charm bracelet from the jewelry box.

She stared at the bracelet, noting the tiny charms: a dog, a cab, a tiny replica of the White House, a shamrock, a fish, a playing card, a magnifying glass, and a heart. "You gave this some thought."

"Yeah."

"Help me put it on," she softly responded, smiling as he fumbled with the clasp, finally getting it snapped closed.

"There," he mumbled, looking up into her tear-filled eyes. "You're not going to be able to forget me now."

"I hadn't intended to try," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

A chorus of ohs and ahs surrounded them.

Mac smiled and - ignoring the eyes staring at them - brushed his lips over hers. "Well, you won't get a chance now. I think I broke the release on the fastener thing. You'll have to have it cut off to remove it."


	5. Topspin 5

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

The house lights dimmed and an emcee, dressed in a metallic blue tuxedo, stepped in front of the microphone.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, and Hound Dogs the World Over. Welcome to the Fifteenth Annual Elvis USA Contest sponsored by the Professional Elvis Impersonators Association."

The hoots and hollers in the crystal ballroom were deafening.

"We've got an outstanding talent program for you today. And for those of you who missed last's year's extravaganza there are VHS and DVD copies available in the lobby for purchase. The proceeds of which will go toward the support of the 'Blue Hawaii Retirement Retreat' for PEI members who've hung up their microphones. But that's enough business, folks - let's get to the fun. To start it off let me introduce you to the seven semi-finalists who'll be entertaining you this morning. Here he is, straight from the executive offices of Blue Wagon Pictures in downtown Hollywood, Steve, you love him as Elvis, Markowitz."

The Markowitz fan club, who had taken over three tables, leaped to their feet and whistled and stamped as the faux-Elvis, clearly representing the late star's final years, strutted on stage and fell to one knee, all 260 pounds of him, white sequined cape draped dramatically over one arm.

"And from a physics laboratory in San Francisco, here's Peter, love him Tender Elvis, O'Donnell."

Donna caught a glimpse of Margaret backstage, clapping enthusiastically, and nudged Josh, who was foraging in the semi-darkness for a lone piece of donut he'd seen on one of the trays on the table. He looked up and gasped at the 30-something Elvis flouncing across the stage, magenta sequins glittering off the spotlight.

"Oh my God. That's him?" he screeched.

Donna nodded vigorously, silently urging the rest of the crew to applaud. But for most of them, the shock stilled their hands. Only Debbie joined Donna in enthusiastically cheering, bringing two fingers to her lips and adding her patented whistle.

Just then, Josh's cell phone rang, and he reached for it, scanned the number, and punched a button.

"Hey, Toby. What's up? How ya doing running the government all by yourself? What's that? I can't hear you!"

Contestant number three, Jason, "Blue Suede Shoes Elvis", Lee, from Taiwan, had strode boldly onto the stage and the four tables in the corner had erupted in a mini-riot drowning out the Director of Communications.

"What? Sure, she's here." Josh turned and handed the phone to Donna. "He wants to talk to you."

Donna got up from the table and headed for the lobby. She was gone long enough for a small confrontation to break out between the fans of Elvis from Hollywood and those from Taiwan.

When she got back, she leaned over close to his ear and shouted, "Come on, we have to go."

"Go? Go where?" Josh asked, delighted that he'd spotted an entire Danish with just one bite out of it on CJ's plate. He was stealthily making plans to filch it. He was determined to have the stamina he'd need for his afternoon of lovin'.

"We're babysitting the twins," Donna declared.

"We're leaving Las Vegas?" Josh said, confused and disappointed because Danny had absentmindedly broken off a piece of the Danish and was chomping away.

"No. Toby's upstairs. We need to get there as soon as possible. I could barely hear him over the noise."

"Yeah, this crowd is pretty rowdy," Josh agreed, noticing the fight that had broken out between dueling "Priscillas." "How come Margaret's Elvis doesn't have more fans here? We're only taking up one table. All the other Elvi - Get it, ELVI? - have 3-table minimum cheering sections. This guy needs to run a better campaign."

"Josh, listen to me," Donna demanded, using her hand to turn his head towards her.

"I am. You said Toby couldn't talk over the Elvis fans."

"No, the babies were wailing. He sounded desperate. Let's go," Donna insisted, pulling on Josh's arm.

He reached for the last piece of Danish just as CJ glanced down at her plate. Assuming that Josh had eaten the pastry, she smacked him on the arm, while Danny chortled silently.

"Donna, I don't know nothin' about babysitting infants," Josh warned.

"You'll be fine," Donna assured him. "This is good practice."

"Practice for what?" Josh asked warily.

"For the six kids I hope we have," Donna answered firmly.

Josh rethought his proposal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Josh and Donna are going to miss the singing," Danny shouted as he watched the couple thread their way though the cheering masses.

"What?" CJ shouted back at him, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a crumb of purloined cherry Danish caught in his beard, near the corner of his mouth.

He shook his head and smiled, indicating that trying to communicate over the noise was a waste of time.

CJ pointed towards his mouth and glared.

Danny shrugged and redirected her attention to the stage. A three-foot tall hunk of burning love with a microphone was smiling and waving at their table. Apparently CJ Cregg, White House Press Secretary, a frequent face on CNN and CSPAN, had fans in low places.

The room unexpectedly went quiet and a spotlight moved to their table.

CJ glanced at the stage and then blanched when she noticed that everyone in the room was now staring at her.

"I'm gonna dedicate this song to my ideal woman, CJ Cregg - witty, beautiful, and tall," the small grinning Elvis announced to the audience. "Give her a hand, folks."

The room complied.

Doing her best imitation of Queen Elizabeth, CJ reluctantly stood and gave the room a tight little smile and two-fingered wave before slumping down in her seat.

Danny grinned and moved out of arm's reach. He was no fool. Someone or something was going to get slapped and it wasn't going to be him.

"Do you know him?" Ainsley mouthed.

CJ shook her head in denial, embarrassed to be the center of attention at this kind of event. Leo was not going to be pleased if this incident made the network newscasts. Although how he could blame her eluded her, but he would find a way. He would find a way to ignore the fact that he was the one who insisted she come to the event. While CJ mused on possible Leo spin control, the miniature Elvis finished up his song.

Walking up to the edge of the stage, CJ's little fan tossed his sequined scarf towards her. His throw was short of course and the scarf landed on a startled Will's head.

The crowd roared with laughter and Will blushed.

Ainsley cheered and clapped, arranging the scarf around Will's neck like an old-fashioned aviator's scarf.

Will swallowed his embarrassment and good-naturedly stood and blew a kiss to the performer.

The room erupted with laughter and a guy with a video camera panned towards the West Wing staff's table.

Mac and Debbie joined the crowd with their cheers, while CJ went in search of a napkin she'd accidentally on purpose dropped under the table.

Elvis grinned and continued singing one of the real Elvis's greatest hits.

 

"Your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir

You light my morning sky

With burning love

With burning love

Ah, ah, burning love

I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They could hear the piercing wails as soon as they exited the elevator. Josh shot Donna a panicked look, as she grabbed his hand and started racing down the hall. They pulled up short in front of the door where the noise level had hit glass-shattering decibels. She rapped firmly, keeping a tight hold on Josh's hand as he turned to bolt.

Toby flung open the door, holding a red-faced Huck in his arms. He immediately rushed back to the crib by the window and picked up a squalling Molly, big tears running down her cheeks. Donna crossed the room and took the little girl from her father's arms, while Josh loitered by the door, hesitant to enter the inferno.

"Bottle?" Donna barked.

"In the warmer on the bureau," Toby replied, rubbing circles on his little boy's back, trying to calm him.

Donna grabbed a bottle of formula for Molly and tossed one to Toby for Huck. In moments the two babies quieted as they hungrily sucked.

Toby sank wearily onto the bed and Donna perched next to him.

"Thanks for coming." Toby looked up at Josh who'd remained transfixed at the doorway. "You coming in?"

"Um....any other options?" Josh asked carefully. He sighed and joined the group in the room, softly closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?" the Deputy Chief of Staff asked.

"Andi had a meeting with Melvina Stevenson and some money people about funding for women's shelters. She left me in charge of the babies."

"Oh my God," Josh exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought about 15 minutes after she'd left the West Wing. Ginger made a reservation for the three of us and we got in around 4 this morning," Toby said, fatigue lacing his voice.

"So you want us to stay with you until Andi gets back from her meeting?" Donna searched around on the bed for a cloth diaper and flung it over her shoulder. She pulled the nipple from Molly's mouth, lifted the baby to her shoulder, and started making small circles on the little one's back trying to elicit a gentle burp.

"I need you to watch both of them while I track down Andi. She was in such a rush this morning that she left her cell phone behind. I called the hotel where the group is meeting but they won't put me through. I just need to go over there, give her the message that her office called and the education bill she authored has just been sandbagged with amendments that will destroy it. She's gonna go ballistic if she can't kill the amendments in committee. I shouldn't be more than a half hour," Toby explained.

"Come here," he motioned to Josh who remained standing near the door, plotting a quick escape.

"Me?" Josh squeaked, but gingerly walked over to the bed and sat down.

"All you have to do is hold him until he finishes his bottle, burp him, then put him down on his back for a nap." Toby took the bottle from Huck's mouth as he transferred the baby to Josh's arms. The little one immediately protested angrily.

"Give him the bottle," Toby urged. As soon as Josh popped the nipple back into Huck's mouth, the little boy settled down.

"I've got my cell phone on. I'll be back in half hour tops, don't move from the room and everything should be just fine," Toby said, racing to the door.

"No problem, Toby. Take your time. We'll be just fine," Donna reassured him.

"Don't listen to her," Josh immediately interjected. "Run as fast as your bony legs can carry you and get your ass back here double quick."

"Right." Toby nodded and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny grinned and sipped the beer he'd snagged from the Markowitz fan club. That group knew how to party and had come prepared. They had coolers of the stuff and the hotel staff didn't seem to mind. He'd hazard a guess that they must have purchased it in the hotel bar for triple the price of what they could have paid at a convenience store. "Doesn't matter that it isn't noon yet," they declared. "All the Elvis performances are better with a few beers under your belt."

So far Danny hadn't been that impressed but he supposed with another beer or two he might change his mind. The whole thing was certainly an experience. He took another sip and turned his attention back to the stage.

The emcee wasn't having much success trying to quiet the audience in order to announce the next contestant. "The Little Chunk of Burning Love," as Danny called him, was a big hit - almost as big a hit as the young bespectacled speechwriter sitting across the table from him.

Will seemed to have gotten over his initial embarrassment and now was positively glowing under the attention. He was still wearing the scarf and had been singing along with the performer. At one point Danny was sure Will would have joined the little Elvis on stage if Mac hadn't gotten a hand on him and hauled him back into his chair.

Sometime during the ruckus, CJ had duck-walked into the ladies room and hadn't been seen since. Danny supposed he'd have to go check on her in another ten minutes or so. But he had to time it right - too soon she'd be mad at him for not giving her enough space - too late she'd be mad at him for not being concerned about her.

Danny glanced at his watch. Yeah, ten more minutes should do it. Timing was everything in life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two babysitters sat in companionable silence for a moment, while Donna continued to gently pat Molly's back.

"Why are you doing that now? She hasn't finished her bottle," Josh asked.

"Because if she gets too big an air bubble, she'll spit up the whole thing," Donna explained.

Just then the tiny baby belched like a linebacker for the Pittsburgh Steelers.

"Okay, Pumpkin, want some more?" And Molly settled down in Donna's arms and eagerly began sucking again.

"You think I should do that...that burping thing with old Huck here?"

Donna nodded, focusing her eyes on Molly and smiling sweetly at her little charge.

Josh pulled the bottle from Huck's mouth. The little boy protested, but quieted when he was lifted to his babysitter's shoulder. Josh patted the baby's back, mimicking what Donna had done.

"Be sure and..."

The mammoth belch that emerged from the tiny Wyatt-Ziegler registered 5.8 on the Richter scale, and was accompanied by an eruption of liquid that spewed from the baby's mouth and dribbled down Josh's back.

"put a diaper on your shoulder to catch any spitup," Donna finished.

"Ewwww...gross," Josh yelped. "What the hell?"

Just then, Huck scrunched up his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One minute Debbie had been there beside him enjoying the show and the next she'd practically run from the ballroom. Mac had followed but lost her before he'd gotten even part way across the crowded room. The latest Elvis - a thirty-something man with a familiar name - was still being announced as Mac pushed towards the exit door.

Mac scanned the lobby hoping to spot her. Right or wrong, just after the kidnapping he'd done enough digging and pulled enough strings to find out Debbie's son's name and last known address. The address was San Diego, but Kennedy Porter's current location was the stage in the ballroom of the Mirage.

He should have made a few more calls, Mac thought, berating himself. If he'd known her kid was here, he could have warned her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Uh oh," Donna whispered, as another loud noise emanated from the tiny baby, accompanied by a powerful smell.

Josh looked down at his hand which was covered by the greenish, semi-liquid matter that was oozing from Huck's diaper.

"He's leaking from both ends," Josh whined, as the green stuff dropped onto his khaki pants.

"Put him down on the bed," Donna advised.

Josh moved quickly, but Donna yelled, "Put a towel under him."

Josh held the baby close and hustled to the bathroom, grabbed a bath towel, and spread it on the bed.

"Gently put him down," Donna instructed, and Josh placed a smiling Huck in the middle of the towel. The baby looked around the room, entranced by the new faces, and much more comfortable now that he had unloaded. Josh absentmindedly wiped his poop-laden hand on the front of his shirt.

"I'll hold the baby in place while you go get the diaper bag," Donna offered, stretching her legs in front of Huck so he couldn't roll off the bed, while holding the bottle for a still hungry Molly.

Josh scanned the room for the diaper supplies.

"Got 'em." He brought over the baby wipes and diapers.

"First go wash your hands," she ordered. He raced to the bathroom and complied. When he returned, he looked to the commanding officer for the next set of instructions.

"Open the bottom snaps of his onesie," Donna explained.

Josh approached Huck as if he were dismantling a ticking bomb. Gingerly he opened the snaps, then looked at Donna for step two.

"Undo the diaper," she intoned.

He did as he was told.  "Oh my God, did all that come from one kid?"

"No. He borrowed some from friends," Donna snapped. "Haven't you ever changed a diaper?"

"Do I look like I've changed one before?" Josh responded.

"Well be sure and put a..." but before she could finish, a steady stream of liquid shot from the littlest Ziegler penis and hit Josh square in the face.

"diaper on the baby's penis so he can't spray you," Donna finished, laughing so hard that Molly spit out the nipple to look around curiously.

"Very funny," Josh said, flinging a diaper over baby Huck's nether regions.

"You're doing great," Donna offered, trying to present a straight face to her indignant boyfriend.

"Now all you have to do is wipe his bottom thoroughly with some of those wet tissues, put on some zinc oxide to prevent diaper rash, and put on a new diaper."

"You have a gas mask with you?" Josh inquired as the stench from baby Ziegler threatened to overwhelm the room. "What the hell has this kid been eating?"

Josh looked for some tongs to remove the soiled diaper, but when it was clear that none were available, he snatched it from under Huck and began wiping the baby's bottom with multiple tissues.

"Be sure and clean in the folds," Donna advised.

"He's all folds," Josh whined. "He's like a sharpei dog."

"Do it," Donna ordered.

Josh carefully cleaned up the whole diaper region, removing the cloth diaper covering Huck's penis with trepidation, but the little one was at least momentarily empty. He started to put a fresh diaper on, but was stopped by the admonition, "zinc oxide," which he dutifully spread on his fingers, then spread on Huck's bottom, wiping the residue on his now multi_colored pants. He slipped a diaper under Huck and proudly patted down the adhesive tapes. He grinned at the baby and was tempted to slip the little one a high five.

Huck grinned back and then made a familiar face, accompanied by a grunt, and the now familiar noise and smell. He always relaxed completely when with friends.


	6. Topspin 6

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

"Where did everyone go?" Will asked, blinking at the sudden light and noticing for the first time that he and Ainsley were sitting at an empty table. The overhead lights had just flickered back on and the emcee had declared the morning session over, advising the audience to take advantage of the many wonderful restaurants located within the Mirage.

"I'm not sure about everyone else, Sugar," Ainsley chirped. "But Danny was the last to go and he said something about finding CJ and finally getting an answer to his question. He seemed very determined or maybe he was just very drunk - the guys at the next table kept giving him beers."

Will frowned. "I didn't get a beer."

"You got a scarf though," Ainsley countered with a big smile. "And if you take me to lunch, I'll buy you a beer."

Will shook his head. "Nah, I can't drink before the game anyway. Have to keep my wits sharp."

Ainsley nodded. "But we still have to eat. What time does the tournament start?"

"3 pm."

"So we have time for some food and a nap?"

"A nap? I haven't taken an afternoon nap in 30 years."

"We don't have to sleep," she whispered, standing and catching hold of the end of his long sequined scarf.

She smiled at him and gently tugged, tightening it around his neck.

He felt a spark travel all the way from his neck to his toes and back to settle in his groin. "Naps are good."

Ainsley tugged again, bringing him to his feet. "Food first, Sugar."

Will pushed up his glasses and nodded. He wondered if he could talk her into room service instead of the buffet table. Probably not, he reflected, following her out of the ballroom. Even though he was a gambler, he thought it might be too early in their relationship to test whether she'd choose him over a pork chop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Isn't this great?" CJ whimpered as an actual Swedish masseuse kneaded her tight shoulder and neck muscles.

Danny groaned in response. He was lying on his stomach on an adjacent table, having given in to her desire to experience the "his and her" special spa package the hotel was offering. The sauna had been nice, if not too hot for his liking. But he wasn't crazy about the massage.

He was getting the stuffing chopped out of the backs of his thighs and his towel clad bottom. Helga, as her name tag indicated, was a gold star masseuse. Danny thought maybe she'd got her training tenderizing beef  in a meat packing plant.

Somehow, between the time CJ had sneaked out of the ballroom and when he'd found her outside the ladies room, she'd become enamored of the idea of spending a few hours in the Mirage spa. Danny had been happy just to find her in a good mood, so he might have agreed too readily. The massage, the beer, and a cherry Danish were conspiring to put him into a queasy fog. And he still hadn't had an opportunity to press her on the answer to his question.

He managed to squeak out CJ's name in between Helga's blows. "Have... ," his voice warbled, "you...de...cided?"

"Definitely the seaweed wrap next," she sighed. "I can't tell you how much I needed this."

Danny groaned as Helga reached deep and found muscles he hadn't even known existed. "Maybe I'll skip the weed part and just soak in the hot tub."

CJ turned her head and looked at him, smiling. "Hot water wouldn't be a good idea under the circumstances."

He opened one eye and winced as anvil-sized hands with purple fingernail polish squeezed his neck muscles. "Cir... cum . . .stan...ces?" his voice getting higher on the last syllable.

"Yeah. I've heard it can decrease the count."

"Oh." He opened both eyes and grabbed one of Helga's hands holding it aloft. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

CJ nodded. "Yeah. I don't know how we'll manage it, but I want to do it."

Suddenly feeling a lot better, Danny grinned and sat up, releasing his hold on the masseuse. "When do you want to get started?"

"After the seaweed wrap." She chuckled, noticing Helga's frown. "Danny, pull the towel over your lap. Not everyone is as impressed with your assets as I am."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No way."

"It's all that's left."

"I don't care. It's pink. Men don't wear pink."

"He's seven weeks old. He won't know it's pink."

"Of course he will. It will scar him for life." Josh glared at his girlfriend, astounded that she would threaten the future manhood of Huck Wyatt-Ziegler by making him don a pink seersucker onesie. Huck was a guy's guy, a manly man like the fella who was holding him who was currently clad only in Mickey Mouse boxers. Josh had shed his clothes because they were covered in baby poop, spitup, zinc oxide, and a little Dr. Pepper which had been sipped and slopped to fight the nausea induced by the competing smells.

"Look, Huck has got to get out of that wet outfit and all we've got left are some of Molly's clothes. I can't believe how few outfits Toby brought for the babies. But even worse," Donna's voice dipped and Josh looked at her in fear.

"What? What else can go wrong?" he screeched which elicited a baby-sized chuckle from Huck who was having a grand time with his babysitter.

"We're almost out of diapers," Donna declared, danger resonating in her voice.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Josh demanded. "And let me just say, Ms. Compassionate One, that I can't believe you told Toby that it was fine for him to take Andi to lunch. Have you lost your mind?"

Josh slipped the wet outfit from Huck and searching through the suitcase came up with one of Toby's well-worn t-shirts. He slipped it over Huck's head and wrapped the little fellow in a Bartlet for President tee, tying the bottom in a knot so the baby couldn't fall out of it.

"They needed some time alone," Donna snapped. "They have a lot of things to settle."

"I'll tell you what they have to settle," Josh was warming to his topic and as his voice rose, Huck began to make pitiful whimpers. "They have to settle how they are getting their asses back here and taking care of these babies."

"Lower your voice," Donna ordered, eyes flashing. "Huck doesn't like yelling and neither do I."

"I thought we were having an afternoon of sex," Josh hissed. "Trust me. After spending all this time with these babies, sex is the last thing on my mind. And I want to see the statistics. Just how effective is the pill?"

"You don't have to worry about my birth control method. I'm not gonna need any protection since I'm planning to practice abstinence, 'Mr. I don't know how to burp a baby'," Donna whispered fiercely.

"I know how to burp one just fine, don't I Huck?" Josh looked for confirmation from his mini-buddy and was immediately rewarded with a crooked grin. "See the real expert knows who's the pro in this room," Josh crowed.

"Oh, yeah, 'Mr. Poopy-head'," Donna snapped. "Or should I say 'Mr. Poopy-all over'? If you're such a pro then you should have no problem watching both babies while I go down to the gift shop and buy more diapers."

"No, I'll go," Josh said as panic set in.

"In your boxers?" Donna asked with a smug grin.

"Five minutes, Donnatella. You zip down to the gift shop, grab every diaper they've got and get back up here. Take the steps if the elevator is slow," Josh warned, scooping up Molly and holding the twins on his lap facing each other.

Donna hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure...?"

"Yes," Josh urged. "Me and Huck both have sensitive systems. Better buy some Tums while you're at it."

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," Donna warned and closed the door behind her.

Josh looked down at the two infants. "I don't want to worry you guys, but I'm in charge."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Andi peered over the top of her menu and watched the father of her children. He looked longingly as a roast beef with melted provolone cheese on toasted garlic bread, with a side order of fries, passed by on a tray bound for a middle-aged single guy who was sitting alone nursing a Bud Lite and reading The Racing News. Toby caught her glance and immediately shifted his attention to the salad offerings.

"I'm having a meatball melt," Andi declared, snapping her menu closed.

Toby sighed and reread the list. "I think I'll have the Greek salad and an iced tea," he mourned.

"Toby..." Andi began.

The Communications Director held up a hand to stop her. "Really, I'm getting used to weeds. I'm not doing it to impress you anymore." He smiled, then added, "I want to take care of myself so I can take care of Huck and Molly."

Andi placed her hand over his. "Are you sure that the babies are okay? Maybe we should get the food to go?"

"They're fine. Donna's there, and if she could navigate Josh and me out of Indiana last Fall, then I'm sure she can handle two babies." Toby grinned.

"The twins are probably easier," Andi laughed.

The waitress took their order, and a comfortable silence settled between them.

"I've been thinking," Andi started slowly.

Toby looked expectantly.

"I know the house is costing you a fortune..."

"Stop." Toby held up his hand to forestall the conversation. "I want you and the kids to live in that house. It's a great neighborhood, terrific schools, safe, and convenient."

"You think you could let me finish my thought?" Andi replied heatedly.

"Not if it has something to do with your leaving that house," Toby responded in kind.

"That wasn't what I was gonna say," Andi snapped.

"What were you trying to say?"

"Forget it," Andi retorted.

"No, tell me. I'm sorry. I just want you and the kids to live in the house you always wanted and I don't want to argue about it anymore."  Andi took a deep breath and began again, her voice so soft that Toby leaned forward in his seat to hear her. "What I was trying to say is that it's silly and expensive for you to keep your apartment. The house is big enough for both of us and the kids. You're there all the time, except when you're asleep. Why don't you move in with us?"

Toby stared at the mother of his children, stunned and momentarily speechless.

"I thought you didn't want me around, that I was too sad for you," he finally whispered.

Andrea's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Toby. It was the hormones and the craziness of pregnancy talking that day. I said cruel, mean things to you, and you were nothing but wonderful to me."

"Do you want to get married?" he asked.

Andi reached for his hand. "No."

Toby pulled back from her touch. "So this is just to save money."

"That's part of it," Andi admitted.

"Don't worry about it," Toby said brusquely. "I'll be fine."

The food arrived and Toby pushed around the greens on his plate, eating little. This time the silence was uncomfortable.

Andi picked up half of her sandwich, then put it down and faced her ex_husband.

"I always knew that you'd be a wonderful father," she said. "I know you worried about it, but I had absolutely no doubts about that side of you."

Toby looked everywhere but at Andrea Wyatt.

"Our marriage didn't bring out the best in either one of us," she said sadly.

"I love you, Andi. I always have and I always will. And I want our kids to have a mother and father," Toby said earnestly.

"I love you too, Toby. I thought I could stop loving you after we got divorced. I dated other men, but kept coming back to you. I think we've been better together since our divorce than we ever were when we were married. And no matter what happens between us, you *are* Huck and Molly's father and nothing will change that."

"I don't think I can live with you as a boarder," Toby said honestly.

"I'm not ready to have you move into my bedroom," she answered, then smiled, "at least not on a full_time basis."

Toby arched his eyebrows.

"If it's a choice between sex and sleep, Toby, I gotta tell you that right now I'd take the nap in a heartbeat," she laughed.

"And if you were well-rested?"

"I'd jump your bones." Andi grinned. She lifted half of her meatball sub and placed it on his plate. "Move in with us. I don't know where we're headed, but I want to try...one day at a time."

Toby almost grinned. "So," he mumbled, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to them, "you're offering dirty diapers on a full-time basis and no regular sex?"

"Sex with you has never been merely regular," Andi teased, enjoying watching his face flush. "Do you remember the time after your first State of the Union speech? When you kept quoting sections of the speech to me while..."

Toby coughed and took a sip of his water. "Could we not get into that much detail here, now?"

"Fine. Move in with me and we'll talk about old times. Maybe do a few re-enactments."

This time he did grin. "There's a few scenes from our marriage I'd rather not repeat."

"So, make a list. You're good at that."

"You think I won't?"  He pulled a little notebook out of his suit jacket. "Of course I know what you do with my lists."

She laughed. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

Toby put away his notebook and lifted his half of her sandwich. He took a bite while she waited.  Swallowing, he slowly wiped tomato sauce from his mouth with his napkin.

"Toby!"  Her voice indicated that her temper was on a shorter fuse than normal.

"Okay. I'll move in. How many naps do you think you'll need before..."

His reflexes were just as quick as ever or maybe he was just lucky. He managed to catch the meatball before it struck him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you winning?" Mac asked, finally locating her at a casino about a half-mile from the Mirage.

Debbie pulled the handle of the one-armed bandit again and frowned. "Not so that anyone would notice." She fed the machine some more quarters and pulled the lever again.

"You got plans for dinner? I missed lunch looking for you." Mac sat down on the stool next to hers.

Debbie finally looked at him. "You should have stayed with the others. I wasn't in the mood for company - I'm still not."

"Want to tell me what's got your tail in a twitch?" Mac pulled a handful of quarters out of her cup and fed the slot-machine in front of him.

"No. And my tail is none of your concern." She dropped more change into her machine, but didn't pull the lever. "You probably know already anyway.  Don't tell me you didn't dig into my past. You wouldn't have been able to help yourself."

Mac nodded. "I won't lie to you."

Debbie straightened her shoulders, her back becoming as stiff as a board. She stared at the slot machine. "Did you know he'd be here? Is that why you wanted to come to Las Vegas?"

His hand moved of its own accord, cupping her face and turning it toward him. "No. I've never lied to you. I thought he was in San Diego."

She searched his eyes for the truth and found it.

He dropped his hand down to cup her upper arm. "Looks like now would be a good time to tell me what's going on between you two."

Debbie broke his gaze and went back to plugging coins in the slot machine.

Mac sighed. "You are about the most stubborn woman I have ever known."

"Bad tempered too," she dryly added, shrugging off his hand. "I don't have a clue why you keep hanging around."

Mac reached over and pulled the lever on her machine. Bells and sirens went off and quarters began pouring out of the slot-machine.

"I stay because you're lucky and I keep hoping some of it will rub off on me." Mac waved at an attendant who came over with a empty container to hold Debbie's winnings.

'I knew it wasn't for the sex," she sarcastically responded, trying to corral the hundreds of quarters into the plastic bucket that appeared in front of her.

She glanced at him and he saw the tears that threatened to erupt.

"It'll be okay," he growled, taking the container from her and filling it. "We're going back to the hotel, get some food, and then you're going to talk."


	7. Topspin 7

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

"Where are you?" He cradled the phone on his shoulder, pacing the room, jiggling his two bundles as he walked.

"Walking to store number 3," Donna answered. "I can't believe that I can buy Elvis boxers and showgirl g-strings, but I can't find any diapers. How are the babies?"

"I think Molly is five pounds lighter," Josh said grimly. "Let's just say that she may not use as many diapers as her brother, but she makes the most of the ones she does. I'm gonna need new socks."

"Oh my God. What did you do? Is she just sitting in..."

"Of course not, " Josh snapped. He sat down on the bed and propped the babies up against the pillows, popping a pacifier in each mouth. The twins, looking like two little Buddhas who support Jed Bartlet for President, sucked hard.

"I changed her. She's got sensitive skin...I think it's alabaster," he added thoughtfully, brushing the little girl's fringe of red curls. "I think you'd better get a couple of outfits for the kids. Molly went through everything she's got and I just used Toby's last t-shirt. Do you think twins should dress alike?"

Donna eyed two miniature Elvis sequined jumpsuits, as she searched the aisles for diapers. Suddenly she could hear pitiful whimpers through the receiver.

"What's the matter? Why are they crying?" she demanded.

"I think they're hungry," Josh said, frantically offering Huck the pacifier he'd just spat out of his mouth. "Although it's like re-arming them for more action, don't you think?"

"There are more bottles in the fridge," Donna suggested.

"Right next to the mini-bottles of scotch," Josh said under his breath, as Molly's pacifier shot across the room and the wailing reached a fevered pitch.

"Donna," he yelled above the din. "Buy 'Depends' if you have to. But get back here now. This is a war zone," as Huck, arm and legs flailing, accidentally kicked his babysitter. Both babies paused momentarily in their shrieking to watch their Uncle Josh fall to the floor, curl up, and use words they'd only heard once before - when Huck hit the same spot on his Dad.

Josh, through his pain, thought he heard giggling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Congratulations." Ainsley hugged Will as he left the poker table a winner for the second time.   "That was so exciting. You went 'all in' with nothing but an ace in your hand. I couldn't believe you picked up two aces in the 'flop' and then another one on the 'river' card. You've qualified for the semi-finals."

Will's eyes narrowed and he leaned back, his hands on the diminutive blonde's shoulders. "What do you know about 'river' cards?"

Ainsley blushed. "I've been picking up a lot watching..."

"You conned me," Will accused, a grin spreading over his face. "You know how to play poker, don't you?  You didn't need my tutoring at all!"

She smiled. "Need?  No. Want?  You bet, sugar. It was the most fun I ever had playing poker."

Now it was Will's turn to blush. "In my apartment - did I win or lose that last hand?"

Ainsley laughed, stretching up on her toes to kiss him. "I think we both won. Don't you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mac stared at the bathroom door and realized he was in the same situation he'd been in the night before - waiting for Debbie to come to him - waiting for her to unlock the barriers between them.

After he'd tracked her down at the casino, they'd traded in her bucket of quarters for something easier to carry - seven crisp one-hundred dollar bills - and walked back to the casino in almost near silence.

A block or two from the hotel he'd commented on the weather. "It's hot out here," he inanely mused, observing the heat waves rising off the pavement in front of them.

She had just raised her eyebrows at him and kept walking. "It's the desert."

True, he'd thought, watching her trudge on ahead   Some things just were what they were and it did no good to debate the hows and whys. Debbie Fiderer was who she was. Mackenzie Sullivan certainly understood that. He too was the sum of his experiences - good and bad. The difference between them was that he was still willing to take chances - still eager to share his life with another.

Now waiting for her to finish her marathon shower, Mac rubbed the back of his neck and debated his next move. He'd ordered dinner from room service and while he was still on the phone making sure their order was correct, she'd mumbled something about needing to wash off the smoke from the casino.

That was almost an hour ago. Their dinner was sitting on a cart - growing cold.

He was hungry, tired, and coming to the end of his patience.

It was time he made another move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't move," Danny complained, staring at the ceiling. "How about you?"  He was lying naked, flat on his back on the sheet-covered mattress of the king-sized bed in their hotel room.

CJ smiled and rolled over on her side, resting her head on his shoulder. "Barely."

"I feel like a bowl of Jello or maybe noodles." He lifted his head just to make sure the rest of his body was still attached.

CJ smoothed a hand over his chest, her fingers tugging on the sparse red hair she found there. "Don't talk about food. I'm starving."

"Why didn't we eat today?" Danny complained. "There must be a dozen restaurants in this hotel alone."

"We had breakfast." She kissed his shoulder. "Some of us more than others."

"Hey, I did the hunting and gathering bit for you this morning. I brought home the bacon, uh, donuts. You begrudge me one little cherry Danish?"

"A Danish that I slapped Josh for stealing." She slid one long leg over his, her knee on his thigh, her foot rubbing his calf.

"So?"  Danny asked, fondly remembering his last morsel of food. "I'm sure he deserved it for something else."

"True." CJ kissed his collarbone. "Do you want to work on our project some more?  I could put in a few more hours."

Danny ran his hand down her naked back and over her bare hip. "I'd love to but that seaweed wrap just sucked all the energy out of me along with the pollutants. My pores are cleaner than they've ever been. We'll just have to be satisfied with that tonight."

"I was thinking of something more tangible to be satisfied about," she argued, her hand moving to explore the assets he'd flashed at Helga. "Are you sure you're down for the count?"

Danny nodded, shutting his eyes as she tried working her magic. "If I could I would. After all I'm the one who brought this topic up to begin with. Seeing Toby with his babies - it just drove home to me how much I want to be a father before it's too late."

She snuggled in a little closer, half lying on top of him. "I'm flattered that you want me to be your child's mother. Did you know I don't even have a cat?"

He chuckled, moving his hand up and down her back, feeling her arch against him. "You've always reminded me of a cat. Long and sleek and skittish of being too dependent on anyone." He paused hoping he hadn't revealed too much. It was a miracle that she'd agreed to have a baby with him. If she knew how much he wanted marriage too, she'd be scampering for the highest tree.

"Tick, tick, tick," she whispered, continuing to stroke him. It had taken her weeks to decide if she could give up her dream of a traditional life, husband then kids, and accept the half-measure Danny was offering. Several days before their trip to Vegas she had visited her ob/gyn. Her doctor had warned her that her odds for a successful pregnancy decreased every month she delayed.  Hearing that, CJ had decided that she couldn't wait for Danny to propose marriage. They had danced around each other for years before even getting to this point. She didn't have that kind of time anymore.

 

"What the hell does that mean?" he grunted, feeling a stirring where he'd have sworn no life remained.

"My biological clock is ticking away. If you want a baby with me, you're going to have to work for it."

He turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. "Are you sure about this?  We haven't worked out how..."

She shook her head, stopping him from listing all the problems they were going to face. "We'll have at least nine months to figure it out." Her hand resumed its previous movements.

"Okay." He grinned, imagining how she'd look in the last days of a pregnancy, her stomach huge and her breasts... His grin widened.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What?"

Danny quickly pulled her over him, adjusting her knees on either side of his body. "Suddenly, I'm feeling very hopeful."

Feeling his penis swelling against her inner thigh, CJ laughed. "Me, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sorry," an abashed Debbie said, holding a wash cloth full of crushed ice to Mac's rapidly swelling eye with one hand and her robe closed with the other.

Mac made an unintelligible noise and pulled her over so she was sitting sideways on his lap. He had retreated to the bed to take stock of his wounds after the scuffle in the bathroom.

"You startled me," she said, trying to explain again why she'd hit him with a bottle of shampoo. "I'm used to showering alone. Then all at once I saw a shadow outside the shower curtain and it was just like Janet Leigh in Psycho."

"If I remember correctly, Janet Leigh never punched Anthony Perkins' lights out."

"I'm no victim," Debbie responded, letting him move the ice over a little so he could see.

Mac nodded, then winced. "Exactly."

Debbie sighed, well aware that he wasn't talking about his bathroom break-in and her act of self-defense. "I was going to talk to you about Kennedy. About all of it. It just never seemed like the right time and then when it was, I couldn't find the right words."

He took the wash cloth and ice out of her hand and tossed it over on the dinner cart. "Just tell me - straight out."

Debbie swallowed hard, one hand still clutching her robe lapels and the other now resting on his damp shirt. Looking anywhere but his face, she started. "When Kennedy was 15, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My mother died from it. I thought I would too."

Mac carefully controlled his expression and voice, knowing that any signs of sympathy from him would be interpreted as pity at this moment. He dryly commented, "obviously, you were wrong."

Startled, she turned her head and stared at him, frowning. "Obviously."

"So what happened?"  He tightened his hold on her, one arm around her shoulders and the other crossing in front of her, his hand resting on her hip.

"I made a mistake," she bluntly responded. "I sent my son to live with his father with no explanation. I purposely let him think I didn't want him anymore."

He lightly touched the side of her face. "Why?"

"Because I didn't want him to suffer the way I did. Mac, I watched my mother die." Her voice was determined. "It was two years of agony for both of us. Kennedy was better off with Jim."

"Jim?"

"Jim Porter, Kennedy's father - the guy I married my freshman year of college."

"Go on," Mac urged, not really needing to hear the rest of it - he could guess. But he knew she needed to tell him.

"I..." She shifted trying to move off his lap and over onto the mattress, but he held her in place.

Mac growled, "Just be still and tell me. There's nothing you could say that will shock me or change the way I feel about you. I have scars of my own, regrets of my own."

"Did you abandon a child?" she asked, her voice bitter and defeated. "Well I did."

"His father mistreated him?"  Mac asked, again knowing the answer. "Didn't want him?"

She glared at him. "Of course not. Jim Porter would never hurt a fly if he could help it. We got married because I was pregnant with Kennedy. We got divorced because I wanted to finish school and he wanted someone to iron his shirts. We were just too different to stay together. But Jim loved that baby from the moment he saw him in the hospital crib. He was always a good father to Kennedy. Gave him everything he needed, everything he wanted."

Mac probed the wound a little deeper. "Everything but his mother."

Debbie nodded, a harsh sob escaping despite her best efforts. "By the time I realized I wasn't going to die from breast cancer it was too late. Kennedy had another life - one that didn't include me. I left it that way."

Pushing her head down on his shoulder, he stroked her back. "It's been a long time. It was right that you made the decision for both of you back then. But not now. Seems to me like it's past time for you to find out how your son wants to leave it."

Debbie shut her eyes and gripped his shirt. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to face him."

"By tomorrow you will be," he whispered, sliding a hand inside her robe. "Let me show you the woman I see."

"The scar is on my right breast," she volunteered, her voice trembling as she felt his touch.

He held her breast in his hand, his fingers easily finding the slightly puckered scar on the side. "It's smaller than my bullet scar," he commented. "Want to see it?"

Debbie raised her head, staring at him in amazement. "We were having a nice moment there, Mackenzie Sullivan. I don't want to debate who has the biggest scar with you."

Mac grinned, his thumb teasing her nipple into prominence. "I'm still having a nice moment. You sure you don't want to see my scars? I've got some dandies. Just over my ribs is a place where a North Korean went at me with one of those bayonets. And on my right hip I've got a burn scar from an accidental encounter with some Napalm. On my left knee, I ..."

"Shut up and kiss me, old man," she demanded, her mouth covering his.

Mac let her take the lead. He'd always been good at making people order him to do what he intended to do anyway.


	8. Topspin 8

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

"Donna, what's wrong? Why are you here? Where are my babies?"

She looked through the packages she was juggling and saw Toby and Andi racing hand-in-hand across the lobby. They braked to a stop just as the elevator doors opened.

"Everything's fine," the blonde babysitter reassured the two frantic parents. "The kids went through all the diapers you left and I went out to get some more."  The tower of shopping bags started to list. Toby grabbed the top two before they hit the floor.

"Why didn't you send Josh?" Andi demanded as she repeatedly punched the button to close the doors. At last the gates slid shut and the elevator lumbered upwards.

"He...um...he had to take off everything but his boxers. Huck kind of...you know, pooped all over him. Well first he spit up down the back of Josh's shirt and then he pooped, Huck that is, not Josh. Oh, and then he pooped again. I also think Josh spilled some soda on himself, and then Molly pooped on Josh's socks..." Donna stopped talking as she saw Toby and Andi's eyes growing bigger and bigger. Toby jammed the button for his floor one more time, silently urging the elevator to go faster.

At last they arrived at the ninth floor. Toby, Andi, and Donna stepped out expectantly, listening for wails and cries, but were met only with silence. They exchanged glances and took off in a dead run for the room.

Toby fumbled with the keycard and as soon as the automated click was heard, flung open the door. The three adults tumbled into the room and stopped short.

Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff to President Josiah Bartlet, the pit bull of the Administration, clad in a pink silk kimono that belonged to Congresswoman Andrea Wyatt, was sprawled across the kingsize bed snoring gently. Clutched to his chest were Huck and Molly Wyatt-Ziegler, each clad in identical Bartlet for President t-shirts, and each softly snoring along with their Uncle Josh.

At the sound of their arrival, Josh opened one eye and smiled faintly. "Shhh," he warned. "I finally got them to sleep." Huck snuggled down, resting his head on his Uncle's shoulder. Molly emitted little snorting sounds as she too settled against his chest.

Toby and Andi tip-toed over to the bed. Each took a sleeping child and placed them in their cribs. Josh struggled to sit up.

After she'd put Molly in her bed, Andi turned and smiled. "That's a flattering color on you."

Josh attempted to maintain an air of dignity as he closed the kimono around himself. "My clothes are...they got a little..."

Andi waved him off.

Donna had remained standing at the doorway, awed by the scene of Josh and the babies. Finally, she dropped the packages of diapers and walked over to the bed. She dropped to one knee.

"Joshua Lyman, will you marry me?"

As Toby and Andi looked on in astonishment, the Deputy Chief of Staff gazed into his girlfriend's azure blue eyes, then grinned. "Funny you should ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What time is it?" she murmured, feeling him stir behind her. Debbie deliberately kept her eyes closed against the light that filled the hotel suite and the reality of the morning after.

"Early," he mumbled, his voice thickened from sleep. His muscled arm found its way around her waist and he tugged her back against him.

The thought crossed her mind that she could get used to sleeping in the same bed with him, especially in winter. His large, battle-hardened body put off enough heat that she'd never need another electric blanket.

A comfortable silence filled the room.

"How's your eye?" she finally asked, wondering if he'd gone back to sleep.

"I can see out of it."  He shifted, then groaned. "Damn, woman. I think you crippled another part of me though."

Blushing, Debbie smiled, remembering his passion during the long hours of the night. Mackenzie Sullivan made love like he did everything else - full speed ahead and nothing held back. She had a few aches of her own this morning.

"We could put some ice on it," she suggested, her laughter fading as his large warm fingers slid between her thighs.

"I know what to do with it," he assured her, caressing the worst of her soreness away.

A few minutes later, crying out his name as he moved inside her, she had to agree that he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you going to eat your bacon?" Ainsley asked, eying his plate.

Will glanced up and smiled. He'd been planning to eat the lone remaining strip but it looked like she really wanted it. It was the same look she'd given him last night when he'd won the semifinal and qualified for the championship game to be played that night.

"You can have it," he offered, lifting his plate and holding it in her direction. After all he was the one who talked her into room service instead of the breakfast buffet downstairs. Next time he'd remember to double his personal order so there would be extra for her.

"Thanks." She inhaled the bacon and then sighed. "I think the altitude is affecting my appetite, I've been hungry ever since we got here."

Grinning, Will kept the thought that she'd been hungry ever since he'd met her to himself. He didn't think she'd appreciate it.

She didn't. Ainsley read his face like a book and decided to make him pay. "It's either the altitude or perhaps I'm pregnant."  She reached for his biscuit as he blanched and made a run for the bathroom.

"Okay, hamster. Now's the time if you want this biscuit."  Ainsley broke off a piece, walked over and set it on the carpet near the edge of the bed. Returning to her seat, she buttered the rest of the bread and took a bite.

"Damn, busted."  Lex considered his options. The woman human knew he was there so it seemed pointless to waste the food. He scurried out from under the bedspread and grabbed the biscuit. He took a bite as he glanced from her to the closed bathroom door. Would it have killed her to have buttered his piece too?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think you're pregnant?"  Danny asked, holding her hair back as she bent over the commode and lost her breakfast.

"No," she groaned. "This feels like flu. Didn't you notice that Hans was coughing?"

"The Swedish Stud Hans?  The guy you let put his hands all over you yesterday?"

"Hans the masseuse, Duffus," a queasy CJ answered, straightening up and moving over to the sink to splash water on her gray-hued face and rinse the bitterness out of her mouth. "God, I felt fine last night. Now my bones ache, my stomach is rolling, and my head feels like it's going to explode."

"But otherwise you feel okay?" Danny sobered as she glared at him. "Sorry. I guess I'm lucky,  Helga was as healthy as a horse."

"That may be so..." CJ paused to gargle some mouthwash. Spitting, she rinsed out her mouth again with water. "Helga may have been healthy but I'm not and I had more than my hands on you recently. Your luck is about to run out, Fishboy. Be prepared, this stuff strikes fast and hard."

Danny sighed and followed her out of the bathroom. "In that case I'm going to order some breakfast and build up my strength for the battle ahead. I'll also check with the front desk and see if they've got a doctor on call. You can't be the only one sick with this plague."

"You also need to call Margaret. I'm not going to be able to attend her wedding much less be a bridesmaid." CJ pulled one of his t-shirts over her head and crawled back into bed.

"Okay." He wondered if her wearing his clothes meant something important. Nah. Probably just meant she didn't want to throw up on her own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I need coffee," Debbie said, stretching for her robe while trying to keep the crumpled sheet around her.

Mac smiled at her modesty. He reached around her to snag the robe off the floor and hand it to her.

"Thanks." She held the robe for a minute trying to figure out how to get it on without dropping the sheet.

"Want me to turn my head," Mac joked, tugging at the sheet she was holding against her breasts.

She frowned at him and tightened her hold. "That would be very considerate."

"Okay." He reluctantly rolled over and faced the window. "I was thinking maybe we should ask your son to join us for dinner tonight."

"I was thinking more along the lines of sending him a letter - once we get back to D.C."

Mac felt the mattress shift as she stood. Taking that as his cue that she was sufficiently covered, he rolled back towards her. She was pulling clean clothes out of her suitcase. "Want me to talk to him first - feel him out as to his attitude about meeting with you?"

She glanced at him and then at the items in her hand, considering allowing him to do something she was still afraid to do. She wasn't normally a coward and avoiding her son didn't seem right.

He waited. When she continued to stand in one place staring at the undergarments in her hands, he got up from the bed and walked over to stand naked in front of her.

"Let me do this for you," Mac growled, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. "It might be easier for him this way too."

He felt, rather than saw, her nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I was only joking, Sugar," Ainsley said, handing the young speechwriter a glass of ice water to sip. She was standing by the bed, the place he'd staggered to after a session in the bathroom.  "I'm absolutely not pregnant."

Will took a sip and then held the glass to his forehead. "Good. I...uh I mean... well..." He looked up at her beseechingly.

"I know. A baby would, to say the least, be a complication that neither of us is prepared for at this particular time in our lives. We both work at extremely demanding jobs and although Andi and Toby seem to be managing, I don't think I'm ready to compromise my career advancement to devote time to a baby. Not to say that I think you wouldn't be an excellent father or that in the future we might not..." She frowned and then stroked her hand across his brow. "Sweet Thing, you're running a temperature."

"I don't feel well at all," he confirmed, leaning back on the mattress. "My head hurts and I think I'm starting to hallucinate."

"Hallucinate?  I don't think your fever is that high."

Will raised his head and peered again at the extra pillow tossed on the end of the bed. Nothing there now. He sighed and laid his head back down. His glasses were still in the bathroom and he was having trouble focusing, but for a moment while Ainsley was talking about babies, he thought he saw an obese rat sitting on that pillow, smirking at him and eating a Snickers bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mac got to the restaurant early so he could watch the kid come in. Sipping his iced tea, he wished he'd gone with his first inclination and ordered a beer. He had no idea how this meeting would go. Kennedy Porter was friendly on the phone and readily agreed to meet with him. Of course that might have had to do with the lie Mac told him. After all, what luxury armored car designer wouldn't jump at the chance for a CIA contract?

A tall, thin man with dark hair and Debbie Fiderer's eyes walked into the restaurant and surveyed the tables. Mac nodded at the maitre d' and the well-compensated Italian approached Kennedy Porter.

Mac rose as the two men approached and seconds later the thirty-something man was shaking Mac's hand.

"Mr. Sullivan, it's a pleasure to meet you and a surprise," Kennedy said as he took a seat across from the older man.

"Call me, Mac. What's the surprise?" Mac took another sip of tea and wondered if Mr. Porter knew he didn't work for the CIA anymore.

"Fine. You can call me, Ken. And I'm surprised because..." Debbie's son paused.

A waiter had appeared at Mac's elbow, ready to take their lunch orders. "Give me a burger and fries," Mac growled, impatient with the interruption. "And a beer."

Ken smiled at the young waiter. "The same for me."

Once they were alone again, Ken continued. "I was surprised to get a call from the CIA while performing in an Elvis contest. Usually my goofy hobby and my real work don't intersect."

"Now I'm the one that's surprised." Mac crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Ken raised his eyebrows instead of asking what the older man meant.

Again, Mac was struck by how much of Debbie had been passed on to her son. He'd seen that same expression only this morning when he'd told her he was going to make Kennedy an offer he couldn't turn down. "Most people who do goofy things don't realize they're goofy."

Ken laughed good-naturedly. "What can I say?  I'm just a product of my heritage. My father is as somber a man as you'd ever meet, but my mother was as goofy as they come."

Mac cleared his throat. "Speaking of your mother..."


	9. Topspin 9

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

Love me tender, love me dear

Tell me you are mine

I'll be yours through all the years

Till the end of time

Debbie stood outside the door of the rehearsal hall listening as the man inside the room crooned the lyrics and then held the last note for several seconds. She paused then rapped.

"Come in."

She took a deep breath, brushed away threatening tears, then pushed open the door. He was sitting on a stool, his guitar perched on his knees. There was an awkward moment of silence and finally a soft, "Hi."

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Hi, Scooter."

He grimaced and she immediately regretted calling him the childhood nickname.

"Nobody's called me that in a long time," he said mildly, and she couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

"What do they call you?" She took a few steps into the room, a few steps closer to the son she hardly recognized.

"Most people around here call me Elvis," he said with a slight smile.

"I could try calling you The King, but it's hard to do that when I remember that I used to wipe your bottom." She grinned.

He groaned, then stood, put his guitar on the stool, walked over and gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek. "Why not just call me Ken?" he asked.

She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. "Okay, Ken," she said instead, stuffing her hands in her pockets to hold them in place.

"How's your father and Mary?" Debbie asked politely.

A shadow passed over his face. "Dad had a heart attack last year."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know," she said quickly.

"Yeah well Mom, um Mary," he glanced away, "is always on his case about his diet and exercise. She has him walking the malls at 6:30 every morning. He seems a little slower nowadays, but otherwise okay. She's always taken good care of him," and Debbie couldn't tell if that was a personal rebuke or not. Maybe it was just the truth.

"That's good," she said awkwardly, then plowed on. "I saw that your company won an award for that armored truck you developed. You headed that design team, right?"

He looked amazed. "How did you know that?"

"I read the trade papers," she said shyly. "I've been following your career, um your design career. I...I didn't know about this," and she gestured towards the guitar.

"Yeah, it's a pretty crazy hobby," Ken admitted, then smiled. "But no crazier than raising alpacas."

She laughed. "Probably not."

Their eyes met and held for the briefest moment - a spark of remembrance, a flash of some type of emotion, then nothing.

Debbie took a deep breath, searching for a way to bridge the years. She casually walked over and touched his guitar, using the time to search for words to explain. "I never should have..." Her voice trailed off. The word "coward" flashed in her head.

Another few moments of awkward silence transpired before he finally said, "I've...I've got to practice. Tonight's the finals."

"Oh, sure," Debbie said quickly, too quickly. She wanted to run, not walk away. A few postcards and Christmas presents hadn't been nearly enough to maintain their relationship. "I didn't mean to interfere. It's good to see you...um, Ken. Good luck." She turned to go.

"Thanks," he said softly.

She heard his words but didn't slow her departure. Too late, she thought. It was much too late.

Just before the door closed, he asked, "Are you coming to the finals tonight? I mean if you have other plans or something, it's..."

She whipped around to face him, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. "No, no other plans. I'd, er, we'd love to come. You've met Mac."

"Yeah. Seems like a good guy."

This is your last chance, she reminded herself. Keep him talking. "He's got a dog, Whiskey, who loves Elvis and sings along whenever he hears, 'You Ain't Nothin' but a Hound Dog'," she said with a shrug.

"The dog's not with you, is he? I think it would break my concentration..."

"No, no. I was just saying..." she murmured. Stupid, a voice chimed in her head. Almost 20 years and all you can think to talk about is a damn dog he doesn't even know?

"Well, good then."  He paused a moment but could see she wanted to leave, her hand was holding the door open, readying her escape from him once more. But he had questions he needed answered. "I'll see you and Mac after the show. Maybe we could catch a bite to eat?"

Debbie nodded, wanting to nail down an exact time, a certain place, but afraid to push.

Just then a phone rang and Ken reached into his duffel bag and took out his cell. He punched a button, and as an afterthought waved goodbye to her.

She nodded again and reluctantly turned from him. As the door was closing behind her, she heard him say, "Hi, Mom, Dad, great to hear from you. I was just rehearsing...."

A familiar pain settled around her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I really don't care if it's efficient."

"Efficient and economical," he reminded her.

"I already knew it was cheap," she retorted.

"Economical," he challenged. "There's a difference. I'd think you'd know that Miss 'I'm-a-Girl-on-a-Budget' Moss."

"Okay. Let me explain it a different way. How about tacky? How about tacky is to Elvis impersonators conducting a drive-thru wedding ceremony as Josh Lyman is to... hmmm, idiot? Is that the word analogy they had on the SAT test for which you got... um was it 720?" she teased.

"760 verbal, baby, don't you ever forget it!" A cleaned up, sweet-smelling Josh Lyman gently kissed the hand of his newly minted fiancée.

"I'll file that score right up there with my memories of your secret plan to fight inflation... your attempt to burn down the White House... your wandering helplessly in Indiana until I... "

"Hey, I'm not the one who forgot the time zone change." He laughed, sliding his arm around her waist.

"You're not?" she asked in mock indignation.

"It's possible I also did not remember it, but..."

She captured his lips with her own, effectively ending the debate.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck bringing her closer, his tongue parting her lips and teasing hers.

She angled her mouth to allow him better access.

His hands found her hips and lifted her against him.

At last out of breath, they reluctantly broke apart, foreheads still touching.

"What were you saying about... about... "  Donna couldn't quite remember the point of the discussion, especially since Josh had now pushed her up against the wall of the wedding chapel and was feathering light kisses down the side of her neck, while one of his hands was moving under the bottom edge of her short white blouse.

"I was making the point," he said, punctuating his words with kisses, "that I want to be married to you, the sooner the better. We're here, Elvis the Wonder Preacher is here, let's do it so we can, you know... " His fingers were traveling up her ribs, an inch at a time. He grinned when she stopped his hand with hers. "Do it. Do it as man and wife forever joined... together."  He nibbled on her ear lobe and she could feel her resolve melting.

"I've got a hunk of love burning," Josh whispered, his erection pressing into her hip.

"I'm definitely all shook up," she murmured, turning her face to once again meet his lips with hers.

His errant hand moved again, finding the front clasp of her lace bra. He knew he wasn't going to release it, not in a public place, but he was unable to prevent himself from toying with it, testing his resolve.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Donna pushed his hand down to neutral territory, while whispering into his ear, "Maybe you're right...let's..."

The crash of shattered glass, the twang of broken guitar strings, and then the banging of a door being flung open, interrupted the romantic reverie.

They jumped apart just in time to see a red-haired demon flying past.

"Was that..." Josh whipped his head to follow the fireball streaking past.

"Margaret?" Donna yelped.  She took a few steps after the angry bride-to-be, trying to catch hold of her friend's arm, but missed.

The Chief of Staff's capable assistant pivoted and yelled into the room she'd just vacated, "And you know what else, you sorry son of a bitch, you can't carry a tune despite $10,000 worth of lessons, your precious Priscilla's fake boobs are drooping faster than an ice cream cone in the desert, and I'm reporting those hair implants you deducted as business expenses to the IRS," and with that she stormed out of the chapel completely oblivious to the presence of Josh and Donna.

"I've got to go with her," Donna said quickly, checking her blouse and then racing after Margaret.

Josh sighed. He was getting tired of all the interruptions. If they kept up, he might not be able to perform at his previously high levels. He worried that he was like one of those batteries that never fully discharged. All these starts and stops, and soon he'd... A sound from the other room reminded him why he was there in the first place. 

He peeked into the chapel and witnessed a rather disheveled Elvis wannabe, aka Peter, sitting on the floor, his sequined jumpsuit unzipped, surrounded by shards of glass from a hastily tossed Elvis mirror that had previously decorated the wall.

Josh flinched at the location of some of the broken glass, thinking that old Pete should have been wearing underwear under all that spandex.

Underwear was also missing from the other occupant of the Chapel. Priscilla, aka Wanda the official witness at the Chapel of Love drive-thru wedding site, bare from the waist up, was struggling to find the arm holes of the rhinestone encrusted pink t-shirt that lay on her lap.

Josh looked closely and found himself agreeing with Margaret. No question about it. The woman's boobs were definitely sagging, especially the right one. She should see about getting a refund if they were still under warranty.

Smirking, Josh closed the door quietly and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly punched in speed dial 3, and waited patiently.

"Leo? It's me. Don't worry, I handled everything. Margaret found the crooning son-of-a-bitch just where you said he'd be. Yeah, the local Secret Service agents have had a tail on him for days. Surprisingly they didn't find any counterfeit money, our anonymous tipster must have been wrong about that. Lucky for us they did stumble on his regular meeting place with his pseudo Priscilla." Josh chuckled, then listened for a moment.

"Nah, she's more mad than hurt, I think. Yeah, Donna's with her right now. I think there'll be some female bonding over drinks, maybe some shoe shopping, and then we'll head home. Oh, by the way, now that Margaret is back, I'm reclaiming my assistant."

He listened for another moment, then added, "Nope, Leo, Donna just isn't gonna have time to be your assistant and mine. She's got some wedding planning of her own to do."

He held the phone from his ear as the Chief of Staff seemed to have some comments on the good news.

"What...what did you say? I think the connection is breaking up," Josh announced, grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry, Leo. Donna and I will be out of contact for about 24 hours. See you when we get back," and with that the Deputy Chief of Staff snapped shut his cell phone and walked out of the chapel whistling a familiar wedding march to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will?" Ainsley tried again to get his attention. They only had 15 minutes before he had to take his seat at the final table. The World Championship Poker Tournament final game was about to start - with or without the green-hued speechwriter swaying on the bar stool next to her.

From their location in the bar, she could clearly see the tournament officials and a cable network production crew setting up for the game. The final was going to be broadcast live to 15 countries. The six highest money winners of the last two days were qualified to take a seat around the final table. Most were waiting in the bar, sizing each other up. Most, but not Will Bailey. He was busy just trying to keep himself upright.

"Will? Can you hear me, Sugar?" She waved a hand in front of his eyes and he blinked, slowly.

He moistened his lips with his tongue. "I think taking that medicine the hotel doctor prescribed was a mistake. My mouth is kind of numb and I'm seeing double now. Oh, God, Ainsley - I won't be able to read my cards. How will I know if I really have a pair or if my eyes are just . . ." He swallowed hard and blanched.

The past few hours had taught her what was coming next. Ainsley was nothing if not creative.

Well known Texas Poker Champion Rodeo Charlie permanently lost the use of his lucky 10 gallon hat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think we got lucky? Do you think we made a baby?"

CJ slowly opened one eye and stared wordlessly at her companion. She'd just spent the last hour, emptying the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl, and was now stretched out on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, wondering if the ginger ale she'd just sipped would stay down. If this is what morning sickness felt like, she might have to rethink the "baby" decision.

"I sort of doubt it," she finally murmured. The love-making portion of the day before had been incredible but the morning, afternoon, and evening of the day after had been plagued by the acute onset of what she assumed was a 24-hour virus. At least she hoped it only lasted a day. Either that or she prayed they would shoot her and put her out of her misery.

"Why? You don't think my guys are up to snuff?" Danny asked indignantly, gently pushing an errant strand of hair off her face.

CJ snorted. She gingerly sat up and glanced at the redhead who was butt naked and sitting Indian style on the bathroom floor. "I'm sure your guys are marathon swimmers. But I just went off the pill a few weeks ago and it's late in my cycle, so I wouldn't bet the farm on our making a love connection this month."

She started to stand, groaning as her aching muscles rebelled. Danny reached out a hand to steady her and help her to bed.

"Damn. I was doing the math and if you got pregnant this month, we'd have the baby before the start of the primary season when I have to be on the road so much," he said regretfully, carefully tucking the sheets around her. He climbed in on the other side of the bed.

The pillowcase felt cool to her fevered brow. She was so busy making a silent deal with her body, in which she vowed not to move a muscle in return for no return trip to the porcelain bowl, that she almost missed his concerns. She lifted her head from the pillow.

"What primary road trips? You were going to write a book on the Bartlet administration," she reminded him. "That way you'd be home to take care of a baby."

"My agent's still circulating the book proposal, but in the meantime, one of the possibilities is me latching onto Berko's campaign and covering it from day one like I did with Bartlet. You know the dark horse that comes from behind. There's a real story there," Danny gushed with enthusiasm.

"And you were going to tell me this when?" CJ said angrily. She'd thought they were both on the same page about their jobs. Her time in the White House would be over in four years - maybe less if she pissed Leo off again. Meanwhile, the plan had been that she'd take her maternity leave after the baby was born and then cut back her hours from the 80 she'd gotten used to putting in each week. Danny would care for the baby while she was at work. After Bartlet's second term was over, she'd quit working altogether until their child was old enough to start school.

Now Danny was talking about covering a upcoming campaign?  Was he planning on taking the infant with him? Not likely, even if she would allow it.

CJ shook her head in disbelief, then immediately regretted it as the jackhammers started up.

"Nothing's decided yet," Danny said soothingly. "It's just one of the possibilities. I wanted to have choices."

CJ was too tired and much too sick to continue the conversation. She put her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. 'Danny wanted choices.' It sounded like he didn't realize that they had both committed to a plan where their choices were going to be limited for the next 21 years.

Just before she drifted off it struck her: If going on the road was one of the possibilities he was considering, what were the other ones? And where would a baby fit into those possibilities? Swallowing hard to hold back the nausea, CJ thought that maybe she'd better have some fallback plans too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Las Vegas was his kind of town, Lex Luthor decided, as he vacated the hotel room he was sharing with the two humans. Being mostly nocturnal, he found the Vegas nightlife a vast improvement over D.C. He was able to get a good meal at any hour of the day or night. Food and more food was everywhere, all he had to do was make his way to one of the all-you-can-eat buffet tables and wait for something to roll off an overfilled plate. There were lots of places to hide - the Mirage had its own tropical jungle - although Lex much preferred an air-conditioned room during the day. And of course there were the shows. What would Las Vegas be without the shows?

Although he wasn't that fond of all the Elvis Presley hype, he could enjoy the costumes. In the last two days he'd managed to catch quite a few acts without even leaving the hotel complex. He'd seen two different singers and a television actor doing stand-up comedy. He didn't get most of the jokes, but the rest of the audience seemed to like it. He was planning on seeing a midnight showing - maybe the guy improved after a few drinks.

But out of all the shows, Lex's absolute, hands-down favorite was Siegfried and Roy. As often as possible he made his way to the large auditorium and found a spot under a seat near the front row.

Tonight he was nibbling on discarded popcorn, his eyes glued to the center stage, watching Zigfield and Roy and their white tigers perform. Magnificent!

Spitting out an unpopped kernal, Lex studied the animals. It wasn't fair. There wasn't anything those stupid cats could do that he couldn't do. All he needed was an audition and his name would be on the marquee. Heck, he'd even share the spotlight with the tigers if absolutely necessary and as long as they were well fed before he got within paw swipe distance.

Lex pushed more popcorn into his mouth and planned. He'd need a magic act of his own  and... a stage name. He sat up a little straighter, thinking. Something catchy - something with panache - something like... Lex, The Hamster Houdini.

His beady little eyes flashing with anticipation, Lex rested his head on the purse of the fat woman who'd just sat down in the seat above him. He was gonna do it. His adopted humans could fly back to the nation's capital without him. He was gonna change his name and start a new life in Las Vegas. He was gonna be a star.


	10. Topspin 10

**Topspin**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Category(s):** Humor, Romance   
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Summary:** The gang heads to Las Vegas for a wedding, a poker game, and an Elvis Impersonator Contest  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25  
**Author's Note:** Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound"

* * *

Four Weeks Later

"How did he know your ring size?" Ainsley wondered, dropping her folded newspaper to the concrete beside her chair.  A headline on page 10 of the discarded paper read - Siegfried & Roy add Hamster to Act - Tigers Protest.

Donna and the diminutive blonde Republican were laying on lounge chairs by Debbie Fiderer's pool admiring, yet again, the sparkling one carat diamond on Ms. Moss's size five finger. They'd carefully slathered sunblock on their pale skins and had tossed the tube over to Margaret who was on an adjoining chaise, sipping a pina colada with a paper umbrella perched on the rim of the glass. The assistant to the Chief of Staff had recovered remarkably well from her Vegas adventure and was now wearing a tiny yellow polka-dot bikini that effectively showed off her red hair, as well as most of her other assets.

The bikini, a gift from the sisterhood, was the first step in the ladies' plan to have Leo take notice of more than Margaret's organizational skills.  As of yet, the results had been mixed.  Leo had blushingly avoided looking directly at his assistant after his first shocked gaze, but it had stirred a couple of other male staffers into an obvious frenzy.

Ed and Larry were standing at the foot of Margaret's chair in a duel of "rock, paper, scissors," to determine who could rub sunscreen on Margaret's creamy shoulders. So far, Ed had taken the match twice, but Larry was demanding the best of three out of five.

"A few months ago - you know that night when the guys were all playing poker, drinking beer and smoking cheap cigars? It was the night the nutcase shot at the White House," Donna explained. The other two women listened intently.

"Well after everything settled down, Josh and I were kidding around and he slipped a cigar band on my finger. He pledged his eternal love. I told him that while this romantic gesture was grand, a round, one carat diamond, clarity of VS 1, although a V V S 1 would be even better, flanked by baguettes, would be the kind of romantic statement that even a jeweler from Tiffany's would find impressive." Ainsley nodded in agreement, impressed by the wisdom of the girl from Wisconsin - or Canada, depending on whom you talked to in DC.

"Anyway, since the paper band fit perfectly, he told me he took a cigar with him when he went to the jeweler."  Donna held the ring up again so that the women could get the full effect of the sunlight striking the facets.

Ainsley sighed and privately made a note to herself to buy Will a box of cigars.

Across the patio, the President and Leo were engaged in a fierce debate, the kind known to wreck forty-year friendships. Whiskey watched the two with great interest from her spot in the shade under a nearby tree.

"I'm telling you The Barefoot Contessa gave the secret away on her show. It's the pat of butter in the middle of the pattie that keeps it juicy," Leo growled, trying to wrest the spatula from his old friend's hand.

"Tell the woman to put on her shoes because the real secret of burgers is putting steak sauce in the middle of the pattie, not on top," Jed insisted, holding the utensil out of reach. "We've made half with your secret ingredient and half with mine. The proof will be in the eating."

"Well both halves need turning," Leo growled.  "You're going to burn all of them."

Whiskey whined.  She hated burnt meat.

Jed shook his head, slapping at Leo's hand as he tried for the spatula again. "They need one more minute.  I have it timed."

Ron Butterfield looked on with some interest. He patted his gun holster. He was a hot dog man himself so he was prepared to let the two chefs duke it out over the hamburgers. But the way the President was waving around that spatula, there was a real danger of his Ball Park Franks being knocked off the grill. If that were to happen, he'd have to step in and take control of the situation. Until then, Butterfield thought, slipping on his shades, he might as well enjoy the scenery.  He turned back to keep watch on the occupants of the lounge chairs by the pool. He'd always been partial to yellow, especially on red-heads.

"I don't care what you put inside my hamburger," Josh said, holding a fussy Huck in his arms as he strode past the dueling cooks, "as long as it's burnt beyond recognition."

Both Leo and Jed frowned at him, both opened their mouths to debate his eating habits, but Josh had moved on.

"Hey, Donna."  Josh paused by the foot of her lounger. She looked great in a one-piece navy swimsuit. The high cut legs and the low cut top garnered his full attention.

The blonde looked up from "Modern Bride," pushing down her sunglasses an inch, as she waited for him to get through ogling her breasts and remember what he wanted.

"Uh," he blushed as he realized she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Make sure that the Commander in Chef and his sous chef make my hamburger well done, will you?  My pal Huck here needs a pit stop for a new diaper."

Donna nodded and turned back to the article on Hawaiian Honeymoons, hiding a smile as Josh continued to stand there for another few seconds.

"Better hurry on that diaper," she urged, the pungent smell reaching her.

"Oh, yeah."  He shifted his hold on the baby, making sure nothing was leaking, and resumed his trek to the house.

"You need any help?" Andi asked Josh as he eased by the makeshift bar that she and Toby were tending. "That's a nice shirt you're wearing and I'd hate for Huck to..."

"Nah," Josh interrupted. "Huck and I have a few things to discuss, man-to-man, don't we, Huckleberry?" He gave the baby a high five and was rewarded with a lopsided grin.

"Besides I come prepared," Josh said sagely. "I've got an oilcloth apron in my backpack and I'm sure Debbie has some rubber gloves around."

Andi laughed. "Have fun and good luck. The diaper bags are in the den."

"Huck, only believe about half of what he tells you," Toby grumbled, plucking the pineapple out of the Scotch he'd just poured for himself. "Andi, enough with the pineapple! Not every drink needs fruit added, especially my drinks."

"Bet you like pineapple in your drinks, don't you, Pal?" Josh raised the baby a little higher on his shoulder.

The young Wyatt-Ziegler blew a raspberry on his Uncle Josh's cheek, then gave a deep_throated chuckle.

"I'll take that as a no," Josh joked.

The adults all laughed, even a disgruntled Toby who'd just noticed a cherry floating in his glass.

The two manly men headed for the den while Toby strained his drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is a beautiful cake, Debbie," Abbey Bartlet exclaimed, holding Molly close and leaning over to examine the intricate roses on Josh and Donna's engagement cake. "Did you make it?"

Debbie blushed. "I had a little help from Winston. He gave me his recipe for the icing and some tips on writing the names."

Abbey grinned, letting the baby in her arms finger her necklace. "Our Winston, the pastry chef in the White House?  The one that keeps bringing you cupcakes and tarts?"

Debbie's exasperated expression was answer enough.

Abbey chuckled, startling a delighted grin out of Molly. "Jed's been eating way too many of Winston's tokens of affection. You need to redirect his attentions elsewhere before Jed gets a pot belly like this little one's." Abbey patted the baby's tummy.

CJ lounging against the counter, laughed. "Does Winston know about Mac? Or more importantly, does Mac know about Winston?"

Debbie carefully covered the two layer sheet cake to protect it from random finger swipes. "How's Danny?  I haven't seen him since he got here."

"Nice way to change the subject," Abbey teased. "We'll get back to you."  Turning her attention to CJ, the First Lady took an appraising look at the Press Secretary. "My finely honed psychic senses detect trouble in Paradise. What's Mr. Concannon done now?"

CJ raised her eyebrows and sipped from the bottle of water in her hand.

"Plus I overheard you two arguing in the pool house earlier," Abbey confessed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She's being completely unreasonable," Danny asserted, taking a long swig of his beer. He and Mac were in the pool, hanging onto the edge while drinking and discussing the women in their lives.

Mac glanced at the reporter and kept his opinions to himself. Danny wouldn't appreciate hearing them. He thought CJ was being prudent to question the wisdom of having a baby outside marriage while working as Press Secretary. Besides the political fall-out she'd have to endure, Mac didn't know how she'd find the energy to deal with a baby. She seemed to live in her office. And it didn't sound like Danny was seriously thinking about changing his lifestyle. The man just didn't seem to understand how demanding a baby could be.

"I was just thinking about doing the campaign book. I never said I was going to take the job," Danny blustered. "Besides, we both make good money. We could hire a nanny or sitter or whatever you call it."

"You don't want someone else raising your kid," Mac growled, thinking back to the conversation he had with Debbie in Las Vegas, the one after the dinner with Kennedy. He'd thought the dinner had gone relatively well, even if the mother and son were a little stiff with each other. Debbie, however, had felt otherwise. She'd managed to hold it together long enough to get back to the room, but then had completely broken down. Between the sobs, he'd pieced together the rest of the story of what had happened after she'd put her 15 year old on a plane for California - the months of chemotherapy and radiation. The physical effects of the treatments were made worse by her anguish over her young son and his anger and hurt at being sent away without an explanation.

Mac took a swallow of his now warm beer, only vaguely aware that Danny was still talking. Instead he replayed the scene with Debbie in his mind. She'd told him that it was almost a year before she was recovered enough to deal with a future that she'd long since given up on having. A year before she knew she probably wasn't going to suffer the same fate as her mother. A year - twelve long months - an eternity in a teenager's life. When she was ready to bring him home, it was too late. Debbie's ex-husband convinced her that Kennedy staying with him permanently was the best for everyone, including Debbie. "What if the cancer came back?" he'd unkindly asked. "Are you going to send him cross-country again?  Or maybe the next time you'd have him suffer through the illness and treatment with you?  Remember why you sent him to me in the first place. Just let him be. He's happy now." Debbie had given in without a fight, her guilt overwhelming any thoughts of what she needed or wanted.

"You want another beer?" Danny asked, his voice breaking into Mac's thoughts. "I'm headed for the bar."

"Nah," Mac replied, handing him his empty can. "I'm trying to cut back."  He had his own demons to keep at bay. The last few weeks he'd been concentrating on convincing Debbie she needed to let the memories of the past go so she could start a new relationship with Kennedy. He'd only been partially successful. She'd refused to telephone Kennedy but she had written him a letter explaining what had happened and why she'd made the decisions she had. It had been over two weeks without an answer.

Mac watched Danny put the empty beer cans in a pail by the pool edge, then pulled himself up and out of the water. He hoped the younger man thought long and hard about the responsibilities that went along with having a child - a life-time full of responsibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I know women. I know what they like. And because I like you, I'm gonna clue you in, give you the inside scoop," Josh whispered as he carried the young man with the heavy diaper into the den. "First rule involves snowballs."

He was just about to impart the wisdom of the ages to a very sober Huckleberry Wyatt_Ziegler when he spotted Will at the computer.

"You're not working, are you?" Josh demanded, then started to grin as he got closer to the screen.

"I'm just keeping my skills sharpened." Will blushed.

"What's the site?"

"It's PacificPoker.com, a perfectly legal online game," the young speechwriter said defensively. "Ever since the incident in Vegas..."

"They're not still blaming you for..."

Will sighed and nodded. "After I used Rodeo's Charlie's hat for...um, you know...it set off a chain reaction in the rest of the players. Charlie got nauseous and lost his chili dog lunch on Devilfish Ulliot who started feeling queasy and that was the end of his lunch of fried Spam on white bread with mayo, the Elvis specialty of the day. That kicked off a reaction in Laing, who'd stuck with his standard pork rinds appetizer, but it was when Humberto tossed his chips, so to speak, that the house manager came over and accused me of throwing up as a tactical move to unsettle my opponents. Basically I've been banned from poker rooms from here to Tokyo. The only one willing to play with me is Ainsley."

"Is she a good player?" Josh asked as he efficiently laid a waterproof changing pad on the sofa and plopped Huck down. He unceremoniously unsnapped the baby's mini-jeans and was about to whip off the soiled diaper when he realized that the baby wipes were in the second bag by the door.

"She's the best player I've ever met," Will admitted. He smiled as he remembered their last game. He had never enjoyed losing quite so much.

"Hold onto Huck for a sec," Josh asked. Will came over and put his hand on the baby's tummy and was rewarded with a ear-splitting grin from the friendly younger Ziegler.

"You ever changed a baby's diaper?" Josh inquired innocently.

"No."

"It's time you learned. First undo the paper tape on either side..." Josh instructed.

Will listened intently, following the step-by-step instructions of the Deputy Chief of Staff. The young speechwriter's indignant yowl could be heard poolside.

"Was that Will?" Ainsley asked, concerned.

"I've heard that type of yell before. Sounds like Josh forgot to tell Will about covering Huck's assets while changing his diaper," Donna idly observed, flipping a page in her magazine. "What do you think about this wedding dress?  Think it would make my butt look fat?"

Ainsley lowered her sunglasses and studied the Victorian styled gown. "Oh, definitely."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the hell was that?"  Abbey asked, the yell from the den echoing through the house.

"Just Josh and Will playing with Huck," Debbie dryly replied, setting out bottles of mustard, catsup, and the all important Miracle Whip. "Go on with your story, CJ."

"Well, I had to go on that Russia trip right after we got back from Las Vegas and then Danny had an assignment to do a story on the California Governor. So we really haven't had an opportunity to discuss it or make love in the last month. So today, he corners me and says he wants to try again," CJ finished, arranging the sliced tomatoes on a tray.

Abbey snatched a slice of tomato off the tray, popping it into her mouth after asking, "What do you want?"

CJ shrugged. "I refilled my prescription yesterday, but haven't started taking them yet. I tried to discuss this with him, but I couldn't get in a word after he realized I was saying no to getting pregnant."

Sighing, Abbey responded, "Sometimes you just have to wait them out. He'll come around when he's ready to talk."

Debbie paused in her efforts to open a stubbornly sealed jar of pickles. "The question is how long do you wait?  Sometimes you wait too long and the relationship dies."

CJ took the jar and tried her luck opening it. Grunting, she responded, "You're talking about Kennedy?"  She tried again to get the jar lid to turn. Nothing.

Debbie nodded, taking the jar away from CJ before she hurt herself. She set the jar aside on the counter. "I lost my chance with him. I should have done more to stay in contact, now he doesn't need or want me in his life."

"I don't believe that," Abbey interjected, pulling a wooden spoon from the dish drainer. She stepped between the two women and firmly tapped the edge of the pickle jar lid. "A child always needs his mother."  She tightened her hold on Molly and nodded at Debbie. "You just need to alter your approach."

To CJ's amazement, Debbie easily opened the jar.

Debbie looked at the lid in her hand, then smiled at the First Lady. "What would you suggest?"

Before Abbey could answer, Ron Butterfield stuck his head in the kitchen door. "Ma'am, you're needed outside. The President and the Chief of Staff are about to start throwing food at each other. I might have to draw my gun if you can't talk them down."

Abbey laughed and transferred the baby to an unprepared Debbie.

"Wait, I haven't held a baby in thirty years," Debbie called after the departing peacekeeper.

Molly stared up at her new caretaker with concern. She babbled something, tears forming in her eyes and her face turning red.

Debbie desperately glanced over at CJ. "Maybe you should get some practice?"

CJ shook her head. She'd seen Molly throw a fit before. It wasn't pretty. "I should cut up some lettuce and Andi said they needed more pineapple and ice outside."

Before the two women could work out the distribution of labor, another person entered the kitchen. A towel wrapped around his neck, a swimsuit clad Mac walked over towards the older woman.

"Debbie, you have a phone call," Mac stated, chuckling at the baby who'd discovered Debbie's dangling earrings and changed her mind about being unhappy.

"Can you take a message?" Debbie asked, trying to save her ear and her earring. "And you need to dry off, you're dripping on my floor."

Mac wrapped the towel around his waist. "I can take a message, but you might want to take the call yourself. It's Kennedy. He's at the airport and wants to know if he can come over."

Debbie stared in shock at him for a moment. "He's here?"

"At the airport. You want to talk to him or not?"

Debbie grinned, handing the baby and one slightly bent earring to CJ, before hurrying out of the room.

Mac laughed and followed, sure that he was going to be in his car on the way to Reagan National Airport in the very near future.

In the empty room, CJ and the baby stared at each other. Holding her breath, she took the earring away before it could go in the baby's mouth.

Molly considered putting up a fight for her new toy, but then suddenly exhausted, stuck her thumb in her mouth and dropped her head down on CJ's shoulder.

"Oh, my," CJ whispered, stroking her hand over the baby's curls. She swayed with the baby a little, watching the small eyelids close. The baby felt right in her arms and as CJ held her all the doubts came flooding back. Was she giving up her last chance to have a baby of her own?  Would she regret not trying harder to make it work with Danny?

Shutting her own eyes, CJ hummed a half-forgotten tune from her own childhood. "Sleep little baby don't say a word..."

"Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird," Danny finished for her.

CJ eyes blinked open. Danny was standing in front of her.

The reporter reached out a hand and touched Molly's bare foot, his expression wistful. "Can we talk?"

At a loss for words, CJ merely nodded.

The end.

**Sequel:** "Foul Ball" 


End file.
